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Another Millennial Bites The Dust
It turns out life as a geriatric millennial isn’t that bad after all. So far, anyway.
Today is Wednesday and it’s my 40th birthday.
Yesterday — Tuesday — was the last day of my 30s. When I took my daughter to soccer practice, no joke, I found a crisp twenty-dollar bill on the ground. The sun was shining and the air smelled better than any candle I’ve ever burned.
It was nice.
After practice, I made roasted broccoli and salmon for dinner and talked with my kids about the day. It wasn’t epic, but I felt good like I’d finally figured out how to keep all the pieces of my life moving in the same direction at the same time.
And then my husband called from the parking lot of an Urgent Care to let us know that he tested positive for Covid-19. And just like that, those smoothly moving pieces snarled up against each other like a log jam in a river.
Jared, who is a paramedic and a firefighter, has spent the last 18 months responding to Covid-19 calls. He’s loaded old people, young people, vaxed people, and unvaxed people into the ambulance. He’s gone through thousands of masks, gowns, shields, gloves, and booties. He’s changed his clothes outside to protect our family and when he had the opportunity, he was first in line to get the vaccine way back in December. And…
