My birthday is today (well, yesterday since you're reading this a day later than I'm writing this).
There are so many things that are different from how I celebrated the day last year. I've been working like crazy the past week, taking few breaks. Unlike last year when everything still felt so new and weird and unknown, this year at least feels more settled. And so much more full.
Went out for the first time this week since last year's lockdown began for something not medically related (we've personally been under a very strict quarantine) and it was utterly bizarre. I had to go to the DMV to get my ID updated (which was a shockingly complex experience), but, it was a beautiful day, I was alone in the car, and I had chosen a DMV office 20 minutes away.
It was surprisingly just what I needed, and was the start to a seemingly very lovely week.
But, frankly, I cannot stop thinking about Daunte Wright's baby. And my exhausted heart breaks, over and over, as this happens again and again, and unfathomably, again. I'm not sure what stage of Capitalism it is when an ice cream company has the most succinct and correct statement about an abhorrent situation, but here we are. There's no reforming this. If that doesn't make sense to you, this is the best explanation I've read yet, from last summer. It still holds true now.
