November, the month of birthdays

This first week of November is teed up with my friend’s birthdays—you know who you are!

We are not together to celebrate, but from afar we wave across the lake, across the miles, from tall buildings and tiny houses, from Rogers Park to Okemos to Wilson Avenue. I’m listening to Taylor Swift’s new album (like the rest of us) and feeling twenty-three. Remember—

When we moved to Chicago, when we made mad strange choices like love and mercy, and chased around after midnight to save a friend’s life, and late-night pizza runs, and early-morning el train rides to Cook County, when we got on the big red Jesus bus. The bus has long gone to the junkyard graveyard and we have one foot there too, but, still . . .

We exist, we’re here, we beat Covid and the other stuff, friends all this time. Funny, isn’t it?