I turned 60 on the 29th of March. I had planned to make it a big celebration with my husband, daughter and son-in-law and a few hundred others all attending this big Great Gatsby party at a gorgeous mansion in Asheville. I had my flapper dress and fake pearls and bright red lipstick. I had also planned a bit of self-reflection. After all, it’s a big decade-changer.
Well, then the Coronavirus happened and that big, fancy celebration is postponed until fall when everyone hopes life is somewhat back to normal. My daughter is an Emergency Room nurse, so she is not going to even visit me that weekend, in fears that she’ll infect me now that I am at the advanced age of 60.
When she first mentioned this, I protested that I wasn’t in the high-risk population (this was still when they thought only old people were getting the virus).
“You will be in two weeks,” she told me flatly.
NOT how I wanted to spend my big birthday. But you know what? I got some unexpectedly sweet gifts on my birthday and they may never have happened without this quarantine.
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