nineteen

nineteen is a strange age. nobody throws legal confetti and nobody expects wisdom yet. ideal. #

Nineteen.

I like the sound of it more than I expected. Eighteen had all that official importance attached to it. Twenty sounds like I should know where I’m going. Nineteen is conveniently unfinished.

Mom gave me something that proved, as usual, that she notices what I look at even when I don’t say I want it. Dad called from Genova. Tia sent nonsense. Hikari made me laugh. Erick remembered. Marico remembered. Yuri obviously remembered and called me `”birthday Bambolina”` which should be illegal but unfortunately worked.

The strangest thing about this birthday is school being over. Birthdays used to happen inside the structure of school years. Now the future is no longer `”next year.”` It is forms and choices and actual decisions. Adults keep asking what I want to do as though I have secretly been issued a manual.

I haven’t.

But tonight I had cake, so long-term strategy can wait.

Remember me, Eclipse.