Nov. 23, 2024

Having seen Miles reading in the stuffed chair near the fireplace in the Common Room, Stephen felt no compunction whatsoever about interrupting his friend's concentration. He walked in as he normally would, but instead of walking around the long sofa opposite Miles' chair, he instead leaped over the back of it, landing loudly, but nonetheless gracefully, upon the blue, cream, and cranberry colored cushion. He draped an arm casually along the back as he nestled comfortably into the corner, stretching one long leg out along the back crevice for even more comfort. The other leg was bent over the edge of the cushion at a 90 degree angle, facing Miles. It was by no means Stephen's normal method of taking a seat in the Common Room, but he wanted the theatrics to snag Miles by surprise. By the time Miles looked up, Stephen was already smiling mischievously at his friend and was offering him a green and blue paper bag with a thick rope handle.

"Happy Birthday, Miles. You're getting old, dude," he snarked, while making a vague gesture with his other hand to the black eyeglasses Miles was wearing. "Getting older is definitely better than the alternative, I suppose, as long as you're also getting wiser. Are you getting wiser? At least you managed to not have your birthday fall on Thanksgiving this year, something I imagine you're thankful for at least. How many times in your life has that happened to you anyway?"

As silly a thought as that was, it had crossed Stephen's mind to wonder about it last year. He personally would have hated to have his birthday fall on a holiday. He liked the idea of at least one day a year being dedicated to getting some very directed attention, and not having to share it. Distant as he had his father were, Stephen had to admit his father was good about that at least. That was even more important to him because he knew it was a sacrifice for his father, showering him with attention on the anniversary of his wife's death. He long ago chose to believe it was done out of love and not out of avoidance of the other knee-buckling feelings of grief his father was dodging, though he did concede it could be both. Either way, he would take it. As Miles reached for the bag, Stephen wondered how often Miles' parents had overlooked him on the anniversary of his birth? He suspected it was likely they had, and even once would be one too many times.

A tightness squeezed in his chest.

"So, following on the heels of last years seed planting kit, I sort of visited the same trough again this year, somewhat unimaginatively, I admit, and picked out this bonsai kit for you. I was told if taken care of properly, it could even outlive you. I was shocked to learn that, but had to double-check with the the proprietor to make certain I heard him correctly. I emphasized that, you know, you'd be sixteen, just in case he wanted to revise his claim, but he only stared back blankly at me." Stephen shrugged his shoulders and chuckled. "I guess that means these things live forever or you're really not as old as I think you are."

He swung his other leg off the sofa and leaned forward as Miles pulled it out of the bag. "It is is messy right now and needs to be trained. There were magnificently manicured ones in the shop, but its messiness is precisely why I chose this one for you. I figured when you get stressed and want to release some of that, nurturing a plant might be the very thing to make you feel better. The shop keeper said they are actually pretty tricky to keep alive, but if anyone can do it, I know you can."

He sat back again, both feet now on the floor, and his arm once more casually draped along the spine of the sofa. "And before you ask, yes, it is completely earth-friendly packaging. They even used soy ink. I know because I knew you'd want to know, so I asked on your behalf." His eyes were twinkling and his expression was one of joyful self-satisfaction. "You're welcome."

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