42

The last day of my 43rd year was about as close to a good birthday party as I could ask for under the circumstances.

It included hours of socializing remotely with the friends I would have seen this week in a better timeline. We talked life, whisky, coding, work, and family, enjoying the simple pleasure of hearing each others' voices in what had become an echoing silence in the absence of the PyCon that never was. I knew I needed it, but I had never quite grokked just how much I did.

It also included a great conversation with my son, who is trying to make his way in a world gone topsy turvy as well, and trying with challenges unlike any I had at his age. He's both a child and growing up so fast, and I can't wait to see what he turns to next.

I won't lie; this birthday is going to be hard. I am missing my friends, I'm missing my plans, and I'm missing the simple fact of touching other humans. This isn't the apocalypse I had on my bingo card. But, if you're reading this, you probably know me, and if you do, you matter to me and you've made my year a good one.

Thank you, and on to 43!

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