a million moths.

with the family, nine of us total on a breezy sunday afternoon, and drive down the 10 west to the santa monica pier. to disappear into the crowd of locals and tourists on the beach, stop every few steps — my mom falling behind, emely bear skipping ahead — and take in the pigeons, the street vendors and street performers, the cholos, the hipsters and rockers. these are the things that make every bit of southern california home, sweet home.

she turned 16 years old today. and the girl is full of questions. questions that make you red in the face and land on your lap like hand grenades:

in the car the other day, she turns to me in the most serious way and says:

“nana … how do girls get boyfriends? all my friends have boyfriends. i want a boyfriend.” 

(long, pregnant pause while i think of all these girls with all their boyfriends and all the things these boyfriends want to do to these girls, including, but hopefully never, like-until-she-turns-50, to my baby sister)

“uhhhhh … mama, you should be friends with boys first. like for a really, really, really long time. then, we’ll see. ”

then a few months back, out of nowhere, in the restroom, she says:

“nana …”

(long, pregnant pause.)

“yes, chichi.”

“… are you a virgin?”

“uhhhhhhhhh ……………”