So there we were, living in a tiny studio apartment between the artsy district and the tracks, holding our first child, Jin, just an hour after birth. The midwife had come and gone and we were staring and the faint glow coming off of our first child with a bit of consternation.
“You,” I said, feeling far too calm (it had to be the tea I’d brewed for childbirth), “are not a wizard.”
Sage raised those eyebrows at me. “You are not a witch.”
We’d both known it for a long time, of course, or at least suspected strongly. You don’t go into a relationship with someone while they are still in school at a prestigious institution for wizards or witches and not notice a thing or, and if that hadn’t done it,the forms we’d each chosen for the wedding vows might have, or the family members that did and didn’t attend the wedding. Continue reading