That small exchange meant more to me than the cake or the presents.

It showed how memories could still catch her unexpectedly, and how a different response could slowly teach her what to expect.

That evening, after the last guest left, we sat on the steps looking at the crumpled streamers.

“Was it a good birthday?” I asked.

“The best,” she said.

“Even with the giraffe falling over?”

“Especially that.”

Then she leaned against my arm and added, “I think the garden likes us now.”