There are a lot of things that are hard to share. Dessert, blankets, the remote.
Birthdays aren’t one of them.
After a lifetime of sharing, you’d think I might be ready for some time off, but in some distant future it won’t be as easy as picking a point between here and Bushwick to meet for lunch. It will never be as easy as it was when our twin beds were mere feet apart, and the last thing one of us said before falling asleep was, “Are you still awake?”
The past year was grim, and it would have been a lot more difficult if I hadn’t been able to see you in person. Thanks for getting me to New York, taking me in, and for encouraging me, even when you didn’t feel all that encouraged yourself.
As we grow older (32?!), it’s nice to see who else made it from the backyard pool party to the bar in Brooklyn. It’s nice to introduce each other to the new faces, too, and to have someone who speaks my language to take it all in with. A second memory. A second witness.