On Turning 41
Her family blew out her first birthday candle for her
The smoke gracefully flew over the cake that reflected the tips of waves, covered with too many intricate designs for a one year old to appreciate
The rock smoke, in no hurry, disappears
Stating a new age
The tiny girl called Marjorie smiles
Not because of her new age, but because she knew it was time to eat cake
Now Marjorie blows out her candles in a rush
The speedy blow sets the smoke flying over the pharmacy pink lip gloss colored 41, that sits boldly on the sugary icing that has crystallized on top, so when bitten into the texture goes from a crunch to whip creamy
The smoke moving at a rapid pace floats away, leaving no time to make a wish
My mother frowns, upset with her new age
She touches her cheeks to make sure they are not sagging even though they weren’t two minutes before
She raises her finger and then slides it across the icing, wiping away the shade of an eraser number 4
And she is 1 again
