She walked through the door filled with anticipation. Today would be her best birthday ever, she just knew it. Not like the years before, no it would be different this year.  There really would be a cake, there really would be gifts. This year her mom would be sober enough to remember. She just knew it!
With that anticipation she entered the living room. It was dark, the blinds still drawn, the only light coming from a forgotten cigarette dying out in an ashtray. Not this year. Not again! Her mom lay passed out on the couch unable to be jostled awake.
As quickly as the tears fell they were wiped away. That wasn't going to solve one thing. Pity didn't fix a lick of spit. Move on she told herself, there will be better days and you will see to it. 
That young survivor marched into the kitchen and proceeded to make her own birthday cake and while it baked she wrapped her own gifts from her own toy box. Indeed a party would be had and it would look so unique and fabulous. Permanent markers were used for decorating the walls with misspelled words of joy and affirmation.
When the timer rang and the smell of the cake filled her kitchen she felt a peace wash over her. There was beauty to be found in even the darkest and ugliest of places and moments.
Pulling the blinds allowing daylight to pierce through her mothers stupor and awaken her, she invited her to her party.  Heaviness and guilt came in the form of tears from her mother. Wiping her mothers tears she presented her with a piece of fresh, delectable, straight form the box cake. Her mother began to sing happy birthday filling the room with her deep raspy tune bringing forth a resurgence of tears for both mom and daughter. This time, however there was no wiping them away, they simply let them silently flow holding one another.
From the closet her mother pulled a bright, carefully wrapped box. She remembered!