My One and Only

M turns one tomorrow.

It cannot have been a year and yet it has and he will be a year oh my can it be? Grammar fails me. Punctuation is beyond me. I have only poetry and a mother's long sigh for the last of her babies becoming a walking, babbling, toddling boy, a downy-headed five-toothed miniature version of his big brother with his mother's eyes and his daddy's devilish grin.

Yesterday we held the party. Four a.m. seemed a good hour to rise and bake cupcakes, string garlands of dry leaves as decorations, and ready the house for our guests. We managed to pack a good thirty people into our little town home. The place felt cosy and warm, as it should on a little boy's first birthday. We felt surrounded by love, and so we were.

Tomorrow he will be one. I am still in shock. Aren't you?