So much of my identity involves getting on planes or in cars and going places. That’s at least part of the reason that every time I come back to this slice of internet, it’s because I want to share where I’ve been and what it made me feel. In 2020, obviously, there’s very little opportunity to do that.
I could tell you about my three days in Wilmington, Ohio (where?) where I took the bar exam (oh.). I could tell you about driving 10.5 hours to Atlanta, which already has a dedicated post, because my parents bought a house and I was sad. But that’s pretty much all I’ve got for 2020.
It’s been a weird time for everyone, so I don’t need to tell you how weird 2020 has been for me. This is the first time in at least five years I’ve gone consecutive weekends without going out of town or having some kind of large-scale event. I miss my friends in other places, I miss my friends in this place, I miss doing things in large groups, I miss hugs. I miss dance practice and taekwondo training and happy hour.
Things will go back to semi-normal soon-ish (though, I do have to say, I don’t mind only doing makeup on half of my face), but we’ll all be stuck with the collective trauma that 2020 was. I, for one, am somewhat glad I got this opportunity to exist in my house for this year, because once stuff opens back up, I will seldom be here again to make up for lost time.
This post has been relatively somber, given my typical tone on things like this. The pictures herein are just some moments of joy from the past 8 months. Coffee on the front porch, a friend’s secluded lake house, pizza and cupcakes and wine that I ate by myself for my 27th birthday. The woodland creatures that have become mute substitutes for friends and the fairytale birthday dinner in my backyard. Little tiny things that made this year a bit brighter.
I hope you’re doing OK, my friend, and I hope you reach out if you’re not. Sending you love and hope, always.