Why my socially-distanced birthday was my best one yet

Mom is setting up for her behind the back rebound shot. She takes her aim (sort of) and sends the ping pong ball toward her hopeful target of Solo cups at the other end of the table.

It should be noted that the cups were filled with water instead of beer so that our family wouldn’t single handedly create a new strain of COVID-19 by tossing a ping pong ball that had been suspiciously manhandled and rolled around in the corners of our garage into perfectly drinkable beer.

By this point the ball is hurtling through space, goes completely haywire, and in an absolute feat of athleticism, lands in the wicker basket of my childhood bike, far, far from the cups. Buckets are buckets, so we all drink to that.

I have an interesting relationship with my birthday. While in everyday life I admittedly enjoy getting some solid attention, I don’t love being thrust in the center. As a result, I never plan anything for my birthday, just wanting it to be like any other normal day (I haven’t had a birthday party in seven years). But, because I’m still a normal human, every year my big day comes around, and I’m weirdly bummed and wishing it was a little something extra special. I know what you’re thinking, this is entirely preventable and just plan your stupid birthday. Couldn’t agree more, but still. Moral of the story: I don’t love my birthday, never really have.

The other day, I turned 22 in Coronavirus quarantine with my family at home. With the absolute lowest expectations, I ended up having the most perfect birthday ever. And that’s saying something, because last year I turned the big 21 with my boyfriend Ian, in Amsterdam where we spent the day biking around and eating amazing food. Somehow, this year’s birthday in quarantine beat even that.

The key to the whole day was the fact that I woke up in bed, ready to have yet another uneventful day in my house, maybe sprinkled with a few stupid strolls in the neighborhood to get some steps in. I sat down for my class on Zoom where I learned about horrific ethnic cleansing in the Bosnian War while it literally hailed outside. It was shaping up to be a nice day. 

Remember my two conflicting birthday requirements: having it be just like any normal day and also having it be extra special. Surprisingly, or maybe not, these two ideals aligned perfectly for a social distancing, stay at home birthday. 

First off, it could not have been more like any normal day. I mean, I had no choice. We’re in the midst of a pandemic, required to stay at home, and can’t come within six feet of anyone outside our immediate circle. I’d literally been doing the exact same shit for the past 40 days. So consider the first box checked: just like any normal day in the Q.

Yet because of the absurd nature of our circumstances, it also turned into the most extra special day. Finally, we had something that set this day apart. Better yet, a reason to have fun and celebrate? Count everyone in. The previously forced family togetherness became an absolute gift. 

We had cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, grilled burgers, played a few rounds of beer pong, and wrapped it all up with my favorite Swedish birthday cake and a glass of port wine. My friend Emma drove over and wished me happy birthday from the safety of her car, my grandma in Sweden called me on FaceTime to wish me well, my grandparents in town dropped off a homemade key lime pie before driving off to continued isolation, and my friend Siena sneakily pulled through my driveway to drop off a pint of her favorite ice cream.

In a time of isolation, sadness and uncertainty, these less-than-interactions translated to the fullest and most generous outpourings of love. Getting a honk and a wave from two of my longest, closest friends felt like the wildest birthday bash. Seeing my healthy and happy grandparent’s smiling faces (and Papa Papa’s pretty epic quarantine beard) was the most priceless present. The fact that my family of five can turn into a party made me realize that they’re all I need.

Against all odds, my birthday in quarantine was just like any other normal, extra special day in the confines of my home, complete with burgers and beer pong. My 21st in Amsterdam made me feel happy and lucky, but my 22nd in quarantine showed me that I’m truly fortunate and blessed.

There was even a rainbow after the hail, I shit you not.