My house is full of 100 years of memories. But today, on my 100th birthday, it is empty of voices. Today, I turn 100. I look at the old photographs on the wall—faces I have loved and lost. They are my silent companions. But their silence feels heavier than usual. I've been waiting, hoping for a phone call, but no one has wished me a happy birthday. I feel so alone. 😞 A century is a long time. It's long enough to learn that memories are a treasure, but they cannot keep you warm on a lonely day.