The last of my flesh fell off this morning and now I am perfect bones.
There is nothing to hurt, nothing to bruise, nothing to rot and I would rejoice if I was capable of movement.
I have no complaints though - I am exactly as I was always supposed to be.
That's what grandmother used to say when she came by to help remove the imperfect flesh.
I should have been stillborn, you know.
That's what the midwives said, that's what the scans showed in the days before I was born.
But death changed their mind and took my mother instead.
I left the hospital with all of her years and she left in a box.
Now we can return those years to her one piece of flesh at a time.
What used to be me is now becoming her and she will be exactly as she was always supposed to be.
As will I.
This morning marked the last of me becoming the last of her.
It's a special day -our birthday.
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