Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart.
- Colossians 3:23
“You make me young again,” Amanda said when we were driving home from the movies with our sister-in-law, Judy. We had just enjoyed a girls’ day out. The three of us occasionally went to the movies and then to Ang-gio’s for pizza. Amanda had Down’s syndrome and lived with my parents in Michigan. The closest movie theater was in Sault Ste. Marie, better known to locals as “The Soo,” which was an hour from their home.
“We make you young again? What are you talking about? You’re only thirty-three!” I looked at her in the rearview mirror.
She was sitting in the back seat with her tan and navy raincoat on, her wig tipped back on her forehead to reveal the gently emerging lines there.
She slapped a pudgy hand up to her face. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“Amanda!” Judy said. “Thirty-three is young!”
“Someone’s got a birthday coming up,” I said knowingly.
“Don’t MENTION it!” Amanda moaned.
Amanda’s birthday was September twenty-fourth. The leaves were turning that aged green color that would eventually meld into gold. Amanda worked full-time at the Drummond Island Laundry and Linen Rental, washing and folding sheets and towels for the resorts on the island. She worked hard and came home exhausted. Due to my recent divorce, I hadn’t been around much for her. Things were changing for all of us.
“Look at me! I’m forty-two,” I said.
“I’m over fifty!” Judy chimed in. “Amanda, you’re the youngest of us all!”
“Yep, you’re just a puppy,” I said.
“Yeah, right.” She looked out the window.
Birthday were important events to her. Not just hers, either. If she knew someone as more than just an acquaintance, she knew when their birthday was. She also could name the year and sometimes even the time of day they had come into the world. Since her thirtieth birthday, I had noticed her having a little harder time with each one. I guessed that was normal.
The weeks passed, and it seemed before I knew it, the end of September was upon us. Of course, I made the trip home to see her with gifts and a card. I sat down at the kitchen table that night with Amanda and asked, “What do you want to do for your birthday tomorrow?”
She had an answer ready. “I want to go up on a bluff and shout out our ages.”
I was eating a sandwich, and I paused in midbite. “Really?”
“Yes. You know, up over the houses and people, up high, and shout so everyone can hear.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
The next day, we drove to the Soo with Judy. We went to the movies and out to Ang-gio’s. We sat in a booth waiting for our pizza and Amanda said, “I put something in your purse, Nancy.”
“You did?”
My bag had been sitting in the back seat with her. I unzipped it, dug through it, and pulled out a party favor – a bright pink whistle that unfurled when it was blown into.
“Judy’s got one, too,” Amanda said.
Judy looked in her purse and, sure enough, a whistle. Amanda reached into her own bag an identical one.
“Wow,” I said. “You really plan ahead.”
“On three,” Amanda said.
We all held the whistles poised to our lips. Amanda held up one finger, then two, then a third. We blew hard, and a loud squealing rose from our table as the whistles unfurled and jostled together. Other diners looked over and smiled.
“Happy birthday, Amanda!” I said.
“Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” Judy agreed.
Amanda beamed. We devoured our pizza and laughed and joked, and then the waitress emerged with a cake and a single lit candle on top.
“Look at this!” I said. I hadn’t told them it day, but someone must have noticed the making.
“Isn’t that nice of them?” Judy said.
“We have to sing.”
Amanda covered her face as Judy and I brayed an offkey version of “Happy Birthday to You” as loud as we could, but I could see that she was smiling.
We left the restaurant, and I drove us up to the campus of Lake Superior State University, where I had attended college years before. Behind the Student Services building, there was an enormous hill that overlooked the International Bridge to Canada. We pulled up alongside some small maples and looked out over the expanse of city far below that was Sault Canada, and the Sault Locks where the big freighters came through. A light breeze blew across the hill from Lake Superior to the west of us.
“This must be the bluff!” Judy said.
“This is it!” We jumped out of the car and walked across the grass, among the young maple trees to the edge of the tremendous steep hill. We were indeed looking down upon many “houses and people.”
I turned to Amanda. “Here we are. You have to go first. It’s your birthday.”
She didn’t hesitate. She took a deep breath and roared with all her might. “I’m THIRTY-FOUR! THIRTY-FOUR! I’m THIRTY-FOUR YEARS OLD!”
Judy and I looked at each other, a little startled. We hadn’t expected such vocal power from such a little person.
I jumped forward, hopping up and down, and flinging my arms up over my head. “I’m TWENTY-NINE! I’m TWENTY-NINE!”
Judy’s voice broke with laughter as she wailed, “I’M TWENTY-SIX!”
“Okay,” Amanda said. “I’M TWENTY-FIVE! I’M TWENTY-FIVE!”
“WOO HOO! YEAH!” I yelled, clapping my hands, and we all leaped and cheered, shouting over the rooftops, into the air toward the setting sun.
- Nancy J. Bailey