Making Birthday Plans in the Apocalypse

On Friday it’s my birthday. I’m turning 40. But I’m not much for parties or gatherings. Most birthdays slip by me unrecognized save for the inevitable series of well wishes plotted by Facebook’s friend-nagging-algorithm.

Last year, I had jury duty on my birthday. What a pisser, I thought. This year, I’m sick and sequestered (almost two weeks) in my home with my wife and kids. I don’t know if I have the coronavirus because there aren’t enough tests for people in my condition — sick, but still capable of writing a personal essay. Who knows where I’ll be next year if this trend continues. The only logical escalation I can think of is dying in an Escape Room.

Yesterday a friend of mine texted me and said, “Don’t take this the wrong way but I feel like you’re particularly well suited for social distancing.”

It’s true. I’m an indoor kid. And now, we all are.

Still, I had made plans to have dinner with some friends from middle school. People I had only recently become reacquainted with.

Back in October one of these friends, Brooke, had shared on Facebook that her six children had lost their father the day before. I didn’t know how her ex had died. A mutual friend of ours thought it might’ve been suicide over heartbreak. Later, Brooke told me via messenger that it was another former…