his birthday.
Like candles.
Birthday photos.
Like me pretending not to get emotional each year as my little boy grew taller, his voice deepened, and he moved farther away from the child who once asked whether worms had mothers.
Then last week, Adrian turned eighteen.
I had a weird feeling before I even woke him up.
Maybe because eighteen feels different.
Final.
Legal.
Adult.
Like a chapter is closing whether you are ready or not.
The night before, I stood in the kitchen frosting the cake he had specifically requested “
