pieces of a birthday

this list is twenty-three memories of yesterday and today; which happens to be the day that i was born.

i. white and silver snow on harsh Canadian ground.

ii. chocolate cake.

iii. my intensely amazing aunt gave a life-sized standup poster of Kili the Dwarf. he is very content in his corner beside my bookcase, and i can't stop laughing every time i see him.

iv. pulsating adrenaline before the symphony choir enters a stage on which we are to sing.

v. the ringing of an orchestra tuning.

vi. the performance of Handel's Messiah, from the view of a chorus soprano, before hundreds of locale in a magnificently stifling stone cathedral. the soloists were pristine. the conductor is passionate, and he moved with fluidity and grandeur and flamboyance. the months that we had spent in rehearsal were threaded into the performance. we were given a standing ovation lasting three minutes. the sound was piercing in the acoustics of the church, and my mind still throbs with violin strings. it was glorious.

vii. decreasing adrenaline and a sore throat post-concert.

viii. wishing myself a happy birthday as i climb into bed after the performance, as the clock read twelve o'clock A.M. on the morning of December eighth. it is mine and Dominic Monaghan's birthday.

ix. dreams of music.

x. breakfast with my father this morning, marked with conversation concerning geological mining samples and the alto soloist's turquoise dress from the night before.

xi. the excessive consumption of eggnog.

xii. embroidered leather moccasins, in which i hope to spend the rest of my walking career.

xiii. the overwhelmingly underwhelming thought that i have now gone around the sun fourteen times.