Good birthday

See that exquisite photograph? It's a Carl Jackson original, gifted to me for my birthday by the artist himself. How amazing is that?? How did he know those are the colors I grew up with, and still see in my dreams?

I had a beautiful birthday in every regard. My man made me a pair of sumptuous cheesecakes, one with a yummy blackberry topping and the other with a salted caramel topping, and both with divine graham cracker crusts. He said I was his muse. My daughter and her boyfriend came over, and he made his ridiculously delicious ribs for dinner, my husband made roasted vegetables and scalloped potatoes as accompaniments, and my niece made dangerously smooth margaritas for all.

One of the very best moments of the day was when our doorbell rang, and I opened it to find my son and his love standing in the hallway, six feet away, blowing me kisses and laughing with delight at my surprise. "Just came to put eyes on you and wish you happy birthday in person," my son said. I felt so insanely happy to see them, even though I couldn't hug them. I confess I was tempted. My thoughts unspooled something like: How could I catch anything from my beautiful children. It's against nature. And even if I did, I would accept it. But I didn't hug them, nor would my son have let me, so I contented myself with the fact that he drove all the way here on my birthday to give me his love in person, from six feet away. I got to put eyes on him.

At four in the afternoon, I joined a Zoom call with three of my friends, one of whom is sick with covid. So is her husband, and so is their son, who attended that progressive little farm school with my daughter. He's an oncology social worker now. His dad, who is a rheumatologist, has had the gnarliest case of the virus, but he seems to be on the mend. After he tested positive, he asked if his wife should get tested, too, since she was also showing symptoms. His doctor said, "No, just assume she has it." So much for accurate infection counts. Their son, who may have had it first, did manage to get tested and should have his results this week. My friend, his mother, looked worn and tired, after a week of continuous headaches, a sore throat, and low-grade fevers. She said the hardest to bear was the depth of fatigue. But she, too, is through the worst of it, for which I am thankful.

Someone on Twitter asked people to respond yes or no to the question of whether they knew someone personally who has had covid. Below a long string of people answering yes, this person then tweeted, "I don't believe any of you." Trump cultist? Russian bot? I tried not to become infuriated, to let it wash over me and flow away. I was busy having a good birthday.

My son has expressed the opinion that we're taking a risk consorting with our daughter, but then he said, "Whatever, you're all grown ups." I am at peace with the decision for our two households to be connected during this covid lock down, though I confess that every time our "quarantine five" gets together, which turns out to be most weekends, I monitor all our symptoms more closely the following week. So far we are all okay. May we all continue to be well—all of us here, all of you there. Love.