𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑⁰¹ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ✓

⁵¹the matters of familial affairs and leaving

clementine

My family and I are swaddled in our thick coats and blankets, sat on the picnic table on the patio, the snow having been cleared an hour before.

The cold is nipping at all of us, but our excitement warms us as Everett slices his birthday cake, making sure to cut evenly across the middle and into triangular pieces.

At six, I woke up early to help mom and dad make breakfast and Everett's cake. While I made the chocolate chip pancakes, mom made the cake, and dad chopped up some bananas and strawberries for some toppings for the toast he planned to make.

It's always been in the family that we wake up before sunrise, make breakfast, and eat just as the light washes over the city. They're easily the best memories I've made and I wouldn't want it any other way.

The tradition is from my mom's side of the family, and she tells that it used to be, instead of eating at sunrise, singing traditional songs to supposedly "help" the sun rise.

Of course, she didn't see the point in this, so she changed it to just cooking and eating early, which dad says he liked, since he had been there to witness one my mom's birthdays when he stayed over at her family house, and he felt quite left out when they began to sing traditional French songs.

After everything was ready to be eaten, we moved the food to the picnic table outside and lit sixteen yellow candles on the cake, lodged between yellow sprinkles that are only sticking because of the Nutella we smeared over the chocolate cake.

Dad and I woke up Maddie and Ollie and crept inside Everett's room, trying our best to stay silent, the birthday candles the only thing lighting up the room.

In our unrehearsed morning voices, we, as gracefully as we could, sang happy birthday as Everett woke up.

This, no matter how many times I've done it to my siblings and parents, never got old. When we wake up with a cake and our family right at our faces, we usually just sing along, think of a creative way to blow out the candles, or just go back to sleep and let dad carry us out the door.

The night before is just as exciting as waking up to this event. You know it's coming, you've seen it happen, but it somehow holds up to the magic it's always held.

This morning, the sky is starting to turn into its shade of morning pink, an ombre designing it to fade perfectly from the dark purple that overtook the night before.

Everett's gorging on his slice of cake while I'm smearing and sticking slices of strawberries and bananas on my slice and eating;Ollie watches with a curious look. "You're weird," He mutters, taking one pancake, slicing it, and sandwiching some cake between.

I snort, shaking my head. "Takes one to know one,"

Mom stands up and walks back to the living room, returning with five wrapped presents that makes Everett's eyes widen.

"Bon anniversaire, mon amour," She says before pressing a kiss on Everett's head and putting the gifts on the bench right beside him. "Go open,"

Everett shoves a spoonful of cake into his mouth and scoots to the side to give more space for the presents. "Lequel est à toi? I wanna open that one first," He looks over his gifts, hiding back a smile as he chews.

Mom takes a small boxed present, putting it on the table and watching Everett give out a little "yey" through a full mouth.

He rips the wrapper open and reveals to all of us a polaroid camera box, immediately bringing the widest grin I've ever seen onto Everett's face. "Mini ninety!" He exclaims when he sees the photo of the camera on the box. "Oh my god, thank you!" He opens the box and carefully pulls out the camera, admiring the design and not noticing as mom pulls out two packs of polaroid cartridges and slides it in front of him.