It's the end of an era. My umbilical cord, which had faithfully kept me fed, which was never twenty minutes late with an awkwardly positioned bottle of tepid milk, lies next to me in my crib. Once a vital, nourishing organ; now, a shriveled bit of baby jerky. It was a good run, buddy.
That's it, right? I get to keep the rest of my body parts, yes?
