Angel food cake, that’s what I’ll make. Nine egg whites, I’ll top it with strawberries. I have a memory of my mom asking me, “What kind of cake do you want me to make you for your birthday?” I said, “Angel food cake.” Betty Crocker or was it Duncan Hines in a box, just add water. But I loved it just the same. My first birthday is out of my minds reach and my mom died six years ago. My babies first birthday is a reminder of that. I feel the loss, I feel nostalgic. When I woke up this morning I thought how fast the night went, and can it really be another day? The first feeling was dread, all the chores, the cleaning, cooking. The next feeling was excitement about my morning cup of coffee, which I have begun to drink again against doctors’ orders due to my chronic anxiety and insomnia. I tried sneaking up the stairs but Jack called for me, I grabbed him, put him in his high chair, then Fiona. We all had breakfast together, it was lovely. I hadn’t even considered calling my dad to ask him about my first birthday.  Saturday I won’t put up any decorations and we won’t wear silly birthday hats. I never liked how the elastic cuts into my neck. I’ll make a cake and buy some ice cream. I’ll let Jack and Fiona dig their little hands into it and make the best mess ever.