I was 8 turning 9 that birthday and it fell on a mid week day. Mom (Hilda) had already taken to working full time, since my father left us three years earlier. Even if there had been a welfare system in place at that time my mom was way to proud to ask for anything or take a handout. She was working week days until 6:00 P.M. arriving exhausted and usually frustrated by the long subway rides home. We had my beloved grandmother living with us and she took such good care of us daily and cooked all of our meals. My poor mom would come home so beat and would get a late bite to eat to then retreat into her studies, she was also going to school. That night, as any child would be, I was antsy with anticipation about my birthday cake and any presents. When mom arrived I saw no cake box or presents. My heart sank but I quietly went to my room and promised myself not to say anything. Mom actually forgot what day it was. I won't lie, my eyes welld with tears and I just turned to my books to do home work or at least look like I was. Mom finsihed her dinner changed her clothes and went to her bedroom. Suddenly the door to my room burst open and crying she grabbed me and kissed me and apologized that she just realized it was my birthday. I told her that it was okay and hugged her. She wasn't having any of this and with that she got dressed and went out into the night returning with a cake just for me. I don't know where she managed to find a cake so late or how she got it, we did not have a car. Still nothing would stop my mom from making that day special for me. That is the kind of woman, mother, hero my mom Hilda was and continued to be to the end.