It is autumn and raining. I am thirty-five years old. I woke with one cat on my feet and my husband beside me and another cat on the far side of him. The present from my parents on the end of the bed was the box set of Pioneers of African-American Cinema, which I am so much looking forward to. ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
yhlee has sent me a year's worth of mermaids, currently propped on top of the glass-fronted cabinet while we find them frames. The fragile things are slowly being unpacked. There are plans for dinner and cake. Usually, my mother says, she wishes people sunny days for their birthday, but this rain is probably keeping Rosabella—the salmon-pink, late-blooming dogwood who grows in the side yard of my parents' house; she is eight years younger than I am—alive. She's right that I consider that a better gift than sun. I will have to find out which character I am measuring this year by.
yhlee has sent me a year's worth of mermaids, currently propped on top of the glass-fronted cabinet while we find them frames. The fragile things are slowly being unpacked. There are plans for dinner and cake. Usually, my mother says, she wishes people sunny days for their birthday, but this rain is probably keeping Rosabella—the salmon-pink, late-blooming dogwood who grows in the side yard of my parents' house; she is eight years younger than I am—alive. She's right that I consider that a better gift than sun. I will have to find out which character I am measuring this year by.
