You would cry, too, if it happened to you

One of my nieces was telling me how my 6-year-old nephew started sobbing at the end of the movie Beezus and Ramona because he was just so happy. I know how he felt.

Not that I cried at Beezus and Ramona. I haven't seen it.

But last night, after folks had gone home from my party, Mom gave me a little one-arm hug and said, Nice party.

For some reason, I just lost it then. I started crying and it took several deep breaths to keep me from just total breakdown sobbing. Not sure why. Mom just patted my head until I recovered.

I had never had a birthday party with friends. I am sure Robert was at some of my parties growing up, but he was really my brother's friend. I was just their sidekick, a well-loved sidekick, but still.

I knew people liked me and would come, pretty sure anyway. I didn't really think people would say they were coming and then not show up and it would turn into some awful prank like in Carrie. Really. I didn't. At least not from my friends. My little sister and certain in-laws, however ...

It would be more fun if I heard better. I do OK in small conversations. In groups, whether it is friends or family, I often can't make out the words. I hope no one dares to think my silence is because I am unhappy.

I doubt they do because I often laugh. I may not have heard the story just right, but sitting around people who like me gives me more than enough reason.