Coming back to myself was

Your birthday

Sitting at the counter, watching you all in a busy kitchen: 

Faye Webster on speaker

Pasta bubbling on the stove

Cream & strawberry sponge cake in the oven 

Frosting-licked fingers & paper people cake toppers 

My hands in dishwater 


Coming back to myself was 

Nothing more than a knowing smile

No ceremony, no discernible shift 

Just new friends sitting on a new

floor, watching Ratatouille together –

Me, leaning with my back to the couch 

Mug of tea cradled in my hands

Thinking: this is right,

This is me, again

Julia Fullard

The author Julia Fullard

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