Usually I am a compendium of birthday knowledge. My NJ family – all of them – were so neatly filed away with no need of social media to remind me. I know them all.
I do. I swear I do. I almost feel the coming birthdays. I might get calendar-distracted so that I don’t know what day it actually is, so that I wake up a day later realizing the date and slapping my forehead… but I know what birthday is when.
Or I did. I do! Maybe?
But it seems like this pandemic has finally broken something in me. I don’t seem to know what month it is.
Like, April always has a hum of birthdays, but I spent days mentally reminding myself of the people I need to contact on April 5 for their birthday.
Which would be fine.
Except I was thinking of my friend with the FEBRUARY 5th birthday. Who I love dearly and hope to God in all His goodness that I didn’t actually forget to wish her happy birthday at the time.
But then I start racking my brain wondering who else I’ve missed and it’s like I can’t remember how months work … and that doesn’t bode well. I’m popping the wrong kids in. No that’s April but the 24th. And that other one, is the 10th … but of June.
I do know the days. I know the months.
Do I know where we are in this year?
What is happening to me?
Well, if you’ve had a birthday and I missed it, I’m really sorry. I can’t seem to brain.
Cousin Mahk, I do know it is your birthday today and I hope it’s happy. Hannah David Abby Mark Pete … and others, oh gracious… I know your days are coming. I really really do.
But I’d better wish you happy birthday now, while I still know it’s April.