The Heart They Took, The Heart They Gave

On a New Year's Day, Mom held my hand and led me out of the orphanage.

At that time, I was five years old.

She said from now on, my birthday would be January 1st.

"Every year, we'll celebrate your birthday with you and help you make one birthday wish come true."

I nodded hard.

Back then, I didn't understand that every wish I made, Mom would take something from me.

At six, I wished to see fireworks, and my bone marrow was taken.

At seven, I wished for a doll, and a kidney was removed.

At eight, I wished for cake, and a lobe of my liver was cut out.

This year, I was ten.