“Shhhh!  She’s coming!” I whispered to my dad as we hid behind the bar in the kitchen.  Shuffling slippers glided along the wooden floor.  A yawn . . .  then a gasp broke the silence.

    “What in the world?” mom questioned.  “What a wonderful surprise!  Someone remembered my birthday!”

     “Happy Birthday!” we shouted as we jumped up from behind the bar.  Mom’s eyes were as big as baseballs.  She rubbed her eyes in disbelief.  As  she mumbled as she shook the smallest of the wrapped packages.

     “Go ahead,” I urged.  “Open it.  I made it myself.”

     As she tinkered with the pink, flowered wrapping paper I remembered  the many hours I had spent making the beaded necklace about to appear from  the box.  I searched her eyes.  Would she like it?  Even though the necklace was made from newspaper, to me it was as priceless as pure gold.  For months I had collected my favorite comics from the Sunday newspaper.  After we got home from church, I went to my room to be by myself.  I told Mom that I needed to have some quiet time to study for a big test.  She never bothered
me.  My radio played quietly as I carefully cut tiny triangles out of the brightest colored comics.  If the scissors didn’t cut straight, the rejects fell into the trashcan.  Only the best pieces made it to the glue factory.

     After a hundred comic patches stood at attention on my desk, they had to be curled around a toothpick into a bead.  Each one was glued and left to dry.  While I was making the beads, I dreamed about how pretty they would look when Mom wore them.  As I finished the necklace and placed each one of
them on the golden thread, I imagined her smiling face.  She had given me so many things.  I wanted to give her something special.

     “Oh, honey . . . this is beautiful!  How did you make it?” Mom asked.  She hugged my neck.  Dad took a picture to record the moment as she  admired my creation.  For a few minutes Mom wiped back the tears and talked  about how much I had grown.  A smile gleamed beneath her misty eyes.  The  comics rolled in glue by my own hands became her favorite piece of jewelry.  I’ll always remember the happy time I surprised Mom with that special gift.

    After all, the funnies are supposed to make you smile.