The Foreshadowing Pinata

where was I? Oh yes, standing in the doorway of a dormroom decorated just for me. At the center of a cluster of my closest friends, including my future husband, hung a colorful (is there any other kind?) pinata, in the shape of a donkey. Or is that some kind of alpaca? Its shape is distinctive, classic Mexican, so maybe it's a burro. No matter. It was glorious. And after drinking copiously from my garnet whiskey goblet, I busted into my prize, or is the pinata the keeper of prizes? From its paper flanks flowed tiny wrestlers, matchbox trucks and golden wrapped hazelnut candies. The boon was courtesy of Malcolm via the Group W Bench, a local legend headshop where we both spent time behind the cluttered glass cases. I never would have guessed that eight years later we would be married and living in Mexico, and I would be battling another birthday pinata from the front porch of our beach front home. Was it always meant to be?