I’d like to pretend January was 2020’s hangover and that February will be the real new year, because January was rough. And on the last day of it, I witnessed one of the saddest things of my lifetime.
I knew the funeral would be rough, and I was prepared for the tiny coffin… Or so I thought. But I think that’s one of those things you tell yourself you’re prepared for, when really there’s no way to be. Because when my eyes cast around for it, they swept right over it the first time. The bouquet sitting atop it took the entirety of its surface, and I thought it was just another flower stand at first.
It was so sad and… bleak. Not just because people were wearing black, but because there were so few of us and we were all wearing masks. COVID regulations kept the ceremony small, and those of us in attendance could only sparingly lower our masks to dab at our noses and tears. We tried to social distance while still comforting each other. We failed.
The worst part was seeing Amanda like that. Blank. Empty.
The ceremony was nice, though. I didn’t understand any of it, because it was performed by a Vietnamese monk, but there was a chant-like song that lasted a good seven minutes or so that felt like an appropriate lament. It almost sounded like an instrumental song to me, since I couldn’t distinguish any words.
Sunday
I went to my parent’s house after to visit Bailey Boo. Because sometimes you need puppy love to feel better.
Monday
Sadness doesn’t dissipate in one day, but I did my best to let school distract me on Monday, and then I joined Ashley’s yoga zoom like I’ve been doing each week. Because sometimes what pulls you through is muscle memory. Routine. You keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope that in a few days the fog will lift and you’ll actually be aware of what you’re doing again.
Tuesday
But was I happy as hell when I got the automated call from the district Tuesday morning? Abso-fucking-lutely. Who doesn’t love a snow day?? Especially when a puppy comes to help you shovel.
Wednesday
I spent most of the rest of the week happily diving into our A Long Walk to Water novel study, writing as much as possible, and using YouTube videos to teach myself a new song on the piano. I’m not very good, but I enjoy it… except when the YouTubers act like I’ve got warped speed brain processing power and an encyclopedic knowledge of chords. Like. Slow down, peeps. I played the trumpet in high school. We played one note at a time! I have to watch about fifteen seconds at a time, pausing for three days of practice before moving on to the next fifteen seconds. But whatever. It’s good to challenge yourself, right?
Thursday
This book is a challenge, too. But the best kind. I love it. I love working on it. I don’t love trying to outline, though… I added a whole index card representation of the Save the Cat Beat Sheet to my brainstorming wall in hopes it would help. Mostly doing so was just another way of procrastinating, though, because I don’t think my brain works like this (notice how many are still blank). I just need to sit down and write.
Friday
Which is how I celebrated my birthday. I sat down and wrote.
I also ate a container of maple frosting while binge-watching a riDICulous YA show on Netflix about a girl and her ghost band. It was great. A band’s members die in 1995 after eating some bad hot dogs from a street vendor then come back as ghosts to rock out in 2020?? I’m here for that. (Why 2020, you ask? Well, the plot’s unclear there… I think we’re supposed to believe they were crying in the ether for 25 years?).
I’m far more excited about the show than I am about my birthday. I’m pretty indifferent in general when it comes to my birthday— I like to celebrate, but I’m not upset if I don’t do anything special. But this year, there’s not really an option to celebrate. And anyway, I’m not thrilled about getting another year older without much more to show for it.
I will say, though, that I have some truly wonderful people in my life who made their presence known this week in simple, but meaningful ways. Kath dropped off special coffee beans (though that didn’t have anything to do with my birthday— that was just her being her awesome self), Joannie sent me fun little Creativity Affirmation cards, Kurt looked up Viking birthday song verses to sing to me on our morning writing zoom, Allie left vegan cookie dough balls on my porch… And when Taranne called for her weekly “I’m on my way home from work” chat, she remembered to wish me a happy birthday before launching into her rant about the bad drivers she was stuck behind.
People are lovely sometimes.
Saturday
I like my plan of pretending February brought in the new year. After all, for me, it kind of did. On the fifth, my age ticked over one and I stepped into another year on this earth. And you know what? I’m hopeful it’ll be a good one.