I pulled into my parents’ driveway around six in the evening, carefully balancing the wrapped portrait in my arms. The thing was huge and awkward to carry, but I didn’t care. I had spent almost six months working on it, and I knew Mom would love it.
My name is Kelly, and I’m thirty years old. I work as an accountant at a midsized firm downtown. Nothing fancy, but it pays well enough.
I’ve always lived a pretty normal life, growing up here in this house with my parents and my younger sister, Judith. She is twenty-four now, six years younger than me. We were close as kids, but things changed as we got older.
Mom was turning fifty-five, and Dad had organized this whole party for her. The house was already buzzing with people when I walked in. I headed straight to the hallway where they had set up a gift table.
There were already a bunch of presents there, all wrapped in shiny paper with bows. I carefully placed my gift among them. The frame was heavy, a real baguette frame that cost me almost three hundred dollars alone.
But it was worth it. I had taken art classes for over a year. Drawing had always been my thing, ever since I was a kid.
But recently, I’d decided to get serious about it. The portrait I painted for Mom was my biggest project yet. I used her wedding photo as the reference, wanting to capture that moment for her.
I worked on every detail: the way her hair fell over her shoulders, the smile on her face, the light in her eyes. When I finally finished, I knew it was good. I walked into the living room and immediately got swept up in the party.
Mom was in the center of it all, wearing a blue dress and looking happy. She hugged me tight. Dad came over too, a quiet man who lets Mom do most of the talking.
Judith showed up about ten minutes after me. She made a big entrance, loud and dramatic as always, in a tight red dress and heels that were way too high for a family party. Her fiancé, Mark, was with her, looking uncomfortable in an expensive suit.
“Mom, happy birthday!” Judith squealed and rushed over to hug her. Everyone turned to look. That’s how Judith operates; she needs to be the center of attention.
I watched as she handed Mom a small, wrapped box. Probably jewelry. Judith never put much thought into gifts; she just bought whatever was expensive and called it a day.
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