The morning came gently, filtering through her blinds in fractured stripes of gold. The light moved across the walls like quiet dancers, tracing familiar patterns across the posters, the bookshelf, the old stuffed rabbit perched on her dresser. Eli blinked awake slowly, her body still clinging to sleep, her thoughts suspended somewhere between yesterday and today. For a moment, she forgot what day it was.
But then it returned.
Eighteen.
She let the number settle in her mind, heavy with expectation. She didn't feel different.
No epiphany, no sudden shift in the stars. No new clarity about the world or her place in it. She had expected something like a click, a ripple, a sense that the axis of her universe had tilted ever so slightly. But her room still smelled like sleep and shampoo and her hair was a tangled mess against her pillow. The world still felt too big, and she still felt so impossibly small.
She lay still in the quiet for a while, cocooned in her blanket, her gaze drifting to the ceiling above her. Blank, still and unchanged. The glow-in-the-dark stars she had stuck up there when she was ten had all but faded, invisible in the morning light. She remembered how they used to glow when she'd stare at them after bad dreams, pretending they were real constellations guiding her somewhere safe.
Now, they were just plastic.
Downstairs, she could hear her mother moving about the kitchen. The rhythmic clink of mugs, the low, comforting gurgle of the coffee pot sputtering to life. It was a morning symphony she'd known since she was old enough to form memories. So ordinary. So rooted in the past that it almost made her chest ache.
Eli wondered how many more mornings she'd wake up to that sound. How many more sunrises she'd spend in this room, beneath this ceiling, with the stars that no longer glowed. How long before the word home meant something else? Something unfamiliar. Maybe a new city, a shared apartment or an empty dorm with echoing halls.
She wasn't ready for that thought.
Not yet.
She reached for her phone. It buzzed the moment she touched it with notifications flooding in like a tide she hadn't asked for. Texts, posts, tagged photos and birthday wishes from classmates she barely spoke to and friends she did speak to, a few messages from cousins who remembered out of obligation and one from her father.
She didn't reply to any of them
A notification popped up: "Look How Far You've Come!" along with an auto-generated slideshow of old photos played across the screen.
Kindergarten graduation, her missing front tooth on proud display, summer camp, covered in glitter and mosquito bites, her first phone, held up like a trophy and a selfie she took with her father before he began working overseas.
The app's music played softly in the background, some pre-loaded nostalgic piano loop meant to pull tears or smiles ans Eli watched herself grow up in fast-forward as the moments become memories, one version at a time.
The final photo finally faded into a banner: "Eighteen Looks Good On You!"
She locked the screen and set the phone face-down. Then, there was a knock at the door.
Eli: Come in.
Her mom stepped inside, cradling a small plate with a muffin on it. A single candle flickered in the middle, its flame swaying with every step she took.
Mom: Happy birthday, baby.
Eli sat up slowly, brushing hair from her face with a smile she quickly put on
Eli: Thanks, Mom.
Mom: I know you didn't want a big thing this year, but... a candle cupcake felt right.
Eli stared at the little flame.
Her mom sat beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping gently under her familiar weight.
Mom: Eighteen, huh? You feel any older?
Eli shook her head.
Eli: I feel like... everyone else expected me to.
Her mother laughed softly, the sound warm and worn like an old quilt.
Mom: Everyone else expects a lot of things from people. It's just how these things go.
A long silence followed Afterwards before Eli spoke again.
Eli: Do you remember when I used to make you check my closet for monsters every night?
Her mom smiled, the memory lighting her face.
Mom: Of course. You had rules. I wasn't allowed to check too fast.
Eli: Yeah... Because I thought if you missed one, it would come out as soon as you left.
Her mom reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Eli's ear.
Mom: You always wanted to be sure.
Eli nodded.
Eli: I think I'm still scared of monsters. They just look different now.
Her mother didn't respond right away. She leaned in instead and kissed her daughter's forehead.
Mom: Everyone has something that scares but that doesn't make you less grown-up. It just makes you human.
Another pause stretched between them as Eli took in what her mother had just said before she spoke again.
Then Eli asked the question that had been hovering behind her thoughts since midnight. The one she hadn't dared to speak until now.
Eli: Is it normal to feel like I'm leaving something behind?
Her mother's eyes softened, glimmering with the wisdom only years could bring.
Mom: I think it's normal to grieve who you used to be. Especially when life used to feel so sweet and simple. But experiencing the changes around the world and within yourself is part of life's experiences.
Eli looked down at the muffin, at the melting candle wax dripping slowly onto the plate. That answer struck something inside her, something quiet and old.
After her mom left the room with one last hug, Eli stayed still for a few minutes more taking in everything she had just heard. Then she got up and walked to her closet, not to check for monsters.
Just to stand in the space where she used to hide during thunderstorms, pretending it was a spaceship that could take her anywhere. She slid open the door and stepped inside. It was smaller than she remembered or maybe she was just bigger now.
In the far back corner, behind a stack of boxes and old shoes, she found it.
A dusty, unmarked box.
Inside were finger paintings, glitter crafts, a broken tiara from a Halloween costume. And a folded letter with smudged pen marks and twelve-year-old handwriting.
She opened it carefully and read it slowly.
"I hope you're brave. I hope you still smile when you see fireflies. I hope you don't stop dreaming, even if people say you should. And if you ever feel sad, just remember I'm still here. I'm you. I always will be."
Eli sat on the floor for a long time after that, just… remembering how life was simple back then for her to be able to write this kind of stuff.
But those times were gone now. It was her birthday and she was eighteen, but that did mean she needed to rush or need to prove anything.
She didn't need to know exactly who she was becoming. She just needed to carry the pieces of herself that still mattered.
Especially the small ones.