Birthday feast

Nana’s giggle fills the air and I join in.

“Lenora, darling, I’ve missed you so much,” she says, wrapping me in the warmest, most comforting hug I’ve ever known. Her embrace makes everything else fade—the chaos of the day, the strange new powers—everything melts away in her arms.

“I’ve missed you too, Nana,” I mumble, still a little embarrassed by the door fiasco. “And I’m so sorry about the door.”

She steps back, giving me a soft smile. “It’s just a door, sweetheart. Easily fixed.” With a quick flick of her hand, she draws a glowing symbol in the air with her finger, and before I can even blink, the door restores itself, good as new.

My jaw drops. “Whoa! Nana, I didn’t know you could do that!”

She grins mischievously and winks. “Oh, this old gal has plenty more tricks up her sleeve.” She claps her hands, and suddenly, the house is bursting with balloons, streamers, and colorful banners. It’s as if a party exploded right before my eyes.

I’m left gawking as she ushers me toward the dining room, the smell hitting me before I even reach the table. My stomach growls in response. There it is—the most incredible spread of my favorite foods: roast pork belly with perfectly crisp crackling, spaghetti bolognese, crunchy tacos piled high with fresh salad, and an entire bucket of spicy hot wings. The sight and smell are enough to make me weak.

“Thank you so much, Nana!” I barely finish the words before I dive into the feast, shoveling food into my mouth like I haven’t eaten in days. Picture Goku during one of his epic meals—yeah, that’s me right now, embarrassing but true.

“Gosh, Nana, I’ve missed your cooking so much!” I say between bites.

She chuckles warmly. “And I’ve missed your appetite, though I have to say, you were never able to eat quite this much. Must be that alpha stomach of yours.”

I pause mid-bite, catching the glint in her eye. “Nana, there’s so much I need to talk to you about…” I trail off, the weight of everything I’ve learned today hanging in the air.

Nana gives my hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes full of understanding. “We’ll talk, my dear. After dessert, hmm?”

With a snap of her fingers, the empty dishes vanish, replaced by an array of desserts that look too perfect to eat—ambrosia, layered trifle, macarons in pastel shades, creamy cheesecake, and a fresh fruit salad that glistens under the dining room lights.

But Nana isn’t finished yet. Clearing her throat, she says, “What’s a birthday meal without a birthday cake?” With a final clap of her hands, a magnificent two-tier chocolate cake materializes in the center of the table, dripping with chocolate decorations, and adorned with flickering candles.

Nana begins to sing the birthday song, her voice soft and loving. I’ve always felt a little awkward during this part—what do you do with yourself while someone sings to you?—but it’s also the most joyous moment. Her voice wraps around me like a warm blanket.

The time comes to blow out the candles. I lean in, closing my eyes for a brief second, and just like every year, I wish for the one thing I’ve always longed for:

To see my parents…