My cake, a pink monstrosity of gargantuan proportions, had eighteen candles. I’d counted them ten times already in my head, still not quite believin... that the big day had finally arrived. As with all special days, I was having to share this wonderful experience with my sister, Megan. She sat moodily at the far end of the small, wooden kitchen table with her head in her hands. I was fairly certain from her expression that she probably wasn’t enjoying the prolonged attention I was getting, but to. Oh my look how tall and wide he is dad," she added as she and my father looked up at my six feet six frame."What to hell did you do to get so big lad," he exclaimed, looking up from his five ten height, which I used to think was huge."Clean-living I suppose," I answered, dropping my cases in the hallway.We sat and chatted for about an hour and then my father went to bed leaving my mother and I in the kitchen. "Oh Frank, I have missed you, why didn't you write more often? Three letters in five. More

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