Birthday

The day was busy, filled with family and friends.
I remember waking up in the morning, my eyes flashing open as I smiled, my lips forming silent words.
I'd been excited for days, the sort of bubbly energy you'd expect from a five year old about their birthday, not a seventeen-now-eighteen year old.
I scrambled out of bed, rushing to the bathroom to do my teeth, fully aware that my mum would be fast asleep, it was early, earlier than I'd ever dream of waking up on a Saturday for any other reason.
My dad was waiting for me when I come out, smiling and rolling his eyes as he hugged me and wished me a happy birthday, telling me to wake mum up, just for a bit.
I remember shaking her awake, her sleepy smile as my dad joined us, as he gave me my card, which I pulled out of it's box and hugged mum for, the glitter on the '18' coming off on my fingers. Next was my first present, champagne, the posh bottle suitable for a mature (or not) eighteen year old.
Then was the one I'd been waiting so anxiously for, the one I picked out and had sized so that it would be perfect.
The small dark blue ring box was so plain as I took it from my mum, grinning brightly as I carefully opened it and pulled out the ring.
The gold band shone brightly and the diamonds and rubys sparkled as I tilted it in my hand.
Then the moment of truth, after all it had been months since I had it sized, did it still fit?
I slowly straightened up my fingers, right hand, slipping it on carefully, snug between my middle and my little fingers, it fit.
I beamed, my face lighting up!
It fit!
I hugged my mum tightly before pulling back and staring at it. It was perfect, so beautiful that I felt like cheering.
I knew this birthday was going to be different, be perfect. No fights, no yelling, just family and friends, having a great day.