It’s been 64 years now, but still the same feeling.

Birthday Girl

Fifty-eight years ago today,
my mother gave birth
for the tenth time.
I do not know if it was day or night,
a long labor or short.
In a big family,
details tend to blend.
But I am sure my parents were relieved
that I was healthy.
Half of us had not been.

I came home to a gaggle of siblings,
was admired for a while
and then placed
in my sister’s
pure hearted arms.

There is no one more maternal
than a six-year old girl
and her best friend.
What they lacked in skill,
they made up for in confidence
and generosity.

They raced my stroller down hills
and caught me at the bottom.
They let me take naps in their beds,
washed and combed my long hair,
calmed my fears,
dried my tears,
and told me scary stories.

I tagged along
on all kinds of adventures.

For a little girl
in a big family,
their attention was magical.
Their love was transformative.

Today,
as we remember back and laugh,
I imagine those two skinny,
knobby-kneed friends,
their faces aglow
in the birthday cake candle light,
leaning in close to say,
“Don’t forget to make a wish!”

I wished for them.
Always for more of them.

By Maria Brady-Smith