When I was six years old, my parents planned my seventh birthday party.

It was the first real party I remember having. Friends were invited. Decorations were bought. A new dress was chosen. My mom designed and made the cake. There were supplies, plans, invitations, the whole glorious production of childhood anticipation.

I was excited in that full-body way only a kid can be excited, when the party starts living in your imagination long before it ever arrives.

And then the day came. The house was ready. I was ready.

No one showed up on time….