The old house, usually echoing with the phantom sounds of laughter and the clatter of family dinners, was unnervingly silent. Arnold, his 93 years etched into the lines of his face, sat in his favorite armchair, the fading afternoon light casting long shadows across the room. He had meticulously prepared for this day, his birthday, a milestone he had hoped to share with the five children he and his beloved wife had raised.
He had sent out invitations, not just any invitations, but handwritten letters, each one filled with the warmth of his love and the anticipation of their reunion. He longed to see their faces, to hear their voices, not through the cold, impersonal medium of a phone call, but in person, with hugs and shared stories.
The morning had begun with a flutter of excitement, each distant car sound a potential herald of their arrival. He had set the dining table, five empty chairs waiting patiently, each one a silent testament to the love he held for his children. But as the hours ticked by, the excitement waned, replaced by a gnawing sense of disappointment.
He tried calling, his fingers trembling as he dialed each number. Voicemail after voicemail, each unanswered call a tiny pinprick to his heart. It dawned on him, with a chilling clarity, that he would be spending this special day alone, a solitary figure in a house filled with memories.
He stared at the empty chairs, his mind drifting back to the days when they were filled with the boisterous energy of his children, their laughter echoing through the house, their faces alight with joy. He remembered birthdays past, filled with homemade cakes and silly games, with hugs and kisses and whispered “I love yous.”
The silence in the house grew heavier, pressing down on him like a physical weight. He felt a pang of loneliness, a deep ache in his heart. He had always been a man of resilience, a man who found joy in the simple things. But today, the silence was deafening, the loneliness unbearable.
He rose from his armchair, his movements slow and deliberate, and walked to the window. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow across the garden. He watched as the shadows lengthened, stretching across the lawn like long, reaching fingers.
Just as he was about to turn away, a sound pierced the silence. The doorbell rang, a sharp, insistent chime that startled him. He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. Could it be?
He walked to the door, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. He opened the door, and his breath caught in his throat.
Standing on the porch were not his five children, but a group of young people, their faces filled with warmth and kindness. They were his neighbors, the ones he had waved to over the years, the ones he had shared a kind word with.
“Mr. Arnold,” a young woman said, her voice gentle, “we heard it was your birthday. We wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”
Behind her, a young man held a large cake, its candles flickering in the evening breeze. Others held balloons and small gifts.
Arnold’s eyes filled with tears. He was overwhelmed, touched by their unexpected gesture of kindness. He had been so focused on his children, on the family he had created, that he had overlooked the community around him, the people who cared.
They came inside, filling the house with laughter and chatter. They sang “Happy Birthday,” their voices a chorus of warmth and affection. They shared stories and memories, their presence a comforting balm to his loneliness.
As the evening wore on, Arnold felt a sense of peace settling over him. He realized that family wasn’t just about blood, it was about connection, about shared experiences, about the kindness of strangers.
He looked at the young people around him, their faces glowing in the candlelight, and he knew that he wasn’t alone. He had a community, a network of support, a family of friends.
He blew out the candles on his cake, a small smile playing on his lips. He had spent his 93rd birthday alone, but he hadn’t spent it lonely. He had learned a valuable lesson that day: that even in the face of disappointment, there is always kindness, there is always connection, there is always hope. And that, he realized, was a gift more precious than any he could have received from his children.
A baby girl who ‘never stops smiling’ is living with a rare skin condition that makes her skin crack
Those nine months a mom carries her baby are filled with joy, anticipation, and a dose of uncertainty. What the new parents hope for is their bundle of joy to be healthy. Sadly, that is not always the case.
Jennie Wilklow, from Highland, New York, couldn’t wait to meet her daughter. She and her husband were over the moon to hold her in their arms. All the ultrasounds and doctor’s appointment suggested the baby was healthy, so they were eased and never thought sweet Anna would be born with a condition that would change all of their lives forever.
Jennie delivered Anna via C-section at 34 weeks. Doctors told her she looked beautiful and that was all Jennie needed to hear at that point.
Shortly after, the proud mom heard her daughter cry, and that was just another sign that everything was right with her little jewel.
When her husband visited Jennie, he was strangely silent and looked worried and puzzled.
“My husband’s silence scared me; he just sat in shock as the doctor left, and I prodded for more info,” Jennie shared with Cafe Mom.
“He just kept saying, ‘It’s bad.’ What does that even mean? I thought in my head. He told me, ‘Jennie, I looked in her eyes, and she has the most beautiful soul.’”
Anna was diagnosed with harlequin ichthyosis, a rare condition that causes thick diamond-shaped plates that are separated by deep cracks. “As they tried frantically to help her, her skin hardened within seconds (of birth). After hardening, it began to split, causing open wounds all over her body,” Jennie told Cafe Mom.
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Although doctors weren’t sure she would survive, Anna beat the odds and is thriving. “She was beauty in the purest form,” her mom said.
There isn’t cure, and the treatment is quite demanding as it requires constant baths and keeping the skin as much moisturized as possible. “Every couple of hours I covered her with Vaseline and bathed her for many hours of the day. I had dreamed for years about the things my baby would wear, and though it seemed so trivial, it was what I struggled with most,” Jennie said.
In an attempt to raise awareness about this condition, Jennie posts photos of Anna on her Instagram page harlequindiva. She opens up about the everyday struggles and what it is like to have a child with harlequin ichthyosis.
“Anna captured everyone’s hearts because she is the purest form of perfection. Doing the work every day is simple when I’m doing it for her, and with every new accomplishment, the world celebrates with me,” Jennie told Cafe Mom.
She adds, “I now understand that I was given her because of the love I already carried in my heart for my daughter. Anna was meant for me, and I for her, and together we will show the world what true beauty is.”
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