Turning 32.

In the most sacred of spaces, in between the elongated youuuuu and the ceremonial blowing out of the candles, I closed my eyes and wished for, "...my own children." Immediately I prayed to the birthday genies that they take the wish away. It must have been the half glass of rose or the gift my niece gave me -- a big Disney princess ballon attached to a bottle of Vueve champagne-- that had me all up in my maternal feelings. And yet, there was something so complete about that moment. 

My thighs became the perfect resting place for two eager babies ready to help their Tia. My hands, firmly against their torsos, keeping their fingers safe from the flames and the frosting, were like body guards.