This is a photo on my birthday in 1979 - I was turning 34 - and we had just recently made the decision to move back to California.We had built the house amid much hoopla about how this would be our "forever home." Thus we made design choices and decisions that would reflect that idea. And we had just moved in 3 months earlier. So it was the only birthday we ever celebrated in that house.
Over the years, birthdays have occurred on convenient days, happy days, inconvenient days, busy days, lazy days - and until this year, I had felt that May 23, 1979, was maybe the most "historically eventful" birthday in our family.
But its place has been usurped. A pandemic birthday seems much more "historically eventful" to me. And there have been several in the family now - all kinds of new ways of celebrating have emerged - we are certainly a resourceful bunch - but the fact that we can't be together, can't hug and sing around each other, can't cluster together as the candles are blown out - takes a little of the joy out of the mix.
Zoom birthdays are fun and wonderful - but sort of make you wish you were together in person. Drive by birthday celebrations are the new normal - and a big hit. But once again you wish everyone could stop and get out and give you a high five at least. Cards, packages, phone calls - love is shared - and we should be grateful for technology - but there is the "human touch" that is missing.
And it makes us a little sad. Birthdays are a recognition that time is marching on - and can't be brought back.
So let's at least learn something - and treasure the "now" - even if it's over Zoom!
2 comments:
I was oddly extra sad about your pandemic birthday too. (More so than my own pandemic birthday) Probably because I had thought I'd be with you on the day.
It feels strange to step outside of the normal pattern that we have all been used to for our entire lives: rather than hug or touch or even be in the same room as the people we want to be with, instead we observe each other at a distance. I think my brain tries to replace the experience perhaps by remembering the last time I touched the person, remember what it feels like to hug that person or what they smell like or how their body fills up nearby space.
I think it feels like we've lost something before we've lost it. Because I will see everyone in person again, I'm counting on that, just like I tell myself every time I have to leave after a visit, but I'm used to being able to control when that happens. I almost feel like if I knew, OK, in May of 2021 I will be able to travel again, then I'd be OK with it because at least I'd have a date in mind even if it's a year in the future. Instead I just have to rely on the promise of "someday." Which who knows, might be May 2021! Dare we hope sooner...?!?!
Who knows - this recent "upheaval" has me wondering what odd thing might turn up!
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