Excuse my insanity; 30 minutes of sleep is all I get.  I’m in Insomnia Full Throttle stage.

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I thought your offspring was supposed to look like you.

Jenna-Stephen-Charlotte … whatever its name was … didn’t look anything like me.  I check for signs of resemblance – my large nose and thin lips, my femstache (moustache for females FYI) – nothing.

Maybe I should have given it a strong Mukiga name as a sign of my heritage and a link to my past. Perhaps I should have spoken to it tenderly, “I am you, you are me,” before dumping it into the cycle of something-nothingness.  I should have told it stories of beginnings and stories of inevitability.

I stared at the pathetic little thing for a while with a tinge of sadness.  Just a tinge.  For the shortest while.  It could have been great.  I’d have been a good mother.

I flushed the toilet and walked away.

I’ve never been the motherly type, but there’s something about having your period on the day you turn 34 that makes you think.