Aunt Bea's Backward Birthday
When Aunt Bea turned forty, she announced that her party would be backward. "Everything," she said, "will happen in the wrong order, and I will love it."
My cousin Tess and I arrived at six in the evening and said, "Goodbye!" Aunt Bea said, "Hello" at the exact same moment, and we all laughed so hard that Uncle Roy dropped the pretzels.
Dinner came first, and it was a cake the size of a hatbox. Next came the main course, which was spaghetti. Then, at seven o'clock sharp, we ate breakfast. Aunt Bea wore her coat inside out and her hat on her chin. She walked backward to the table and sat down facing the wall.
Then I remembered something awful. I had forgotten to bring a present. Tess had not brought one either. We whispered in the hallway, trying to think of something.
"Backward," Tess said suddenly. "She wants everything backward. So we can write her a card that goes backward!"
We grabbed paper and wrote a poem, but we wrote it with every letter flipped, the way it looks in a mirror. Then we held the card up to the hallway mirror and read it aloud while Aunt Bea watched over her shoulder. The poem said she was the best aunt in the whole world.
"Best gift ever," said Aunt Bea, wiping her eyes. "And you gave it before I even opened the door."