Happy Birthday

And so, I am 75, plus a couple of days.  I love this.

I hope I remember this birthday, when things were out of whack and there was no in-person singing of Happy Birthday, since singing is one way the coronavirus spreads.  No lighting and blowing out of the candle, possibly spreading virus germs on the cake.

My ever-so-stoic grandmother used to say, "Things can't always be the same."  I have this hope, though, that a year from now there will be singing and blowing out of candles and lighter hearts.

A year ago - I wonder what I worried about.  Whatever it was, it wasn't worth worrying about since I can't even remember what it was.  I think that we, as a collective society, will carry the memory of this year's worries in various ways.  So much sickness, so much hurt.  So much longing, so little comfort.

A year from now - I hope we have more unity, more striving for social justice, no worry about a lurking virus.  I hope we can sing with abandon (and I'm not even a singer.)