On Hosting a One-Year Old’s Birthday
by Salena Casha
The only way to get smash cake from out between old floorboards is on your knees with a child’s toothbrush. Out here in the suburbs, ants abide but it was just so Instagrammable: Carson leaning into the pearled icing. Too large for just him, but too unhygienic for adults to share so you made another chocolate one that stands uneaten because it’s January and they’re dieting. You’re angry-sad because you aren’t, and in forgetting have wasted hours baking cake instead of having a bath. So, you treat yourself to another glass of Prosecco because if you can’t be happy, be drunk.
One of the mums whispers, but you raise your voice and say Ina, for Christ-sake, it’s a
celebration.
Yes, of a child, she’d reply.
Whose? I’ve forgotten, you say before you think and it’s too late for anyone now to tell
you who it is they think you are.
Salena Casha's work has appeared in over 100 publications in the last decade. Her most recent work can be found on HAD, Wrong Turn Lit and The Colored Lens. She survives New England winters on good beer and black coffee. Subscribe to her substack at salenacasha.substack.com
This story was shortlisted in the January 25 Monthly Micro Competition.