My need for connection causes me to whine to Mark at least once a week.
Poor guy, he must be thinking, “What am I? Chopped liver?”
He’s perfect. But he’s here with me all the time. Knows all my stories.
We are embedded in the daily rituals of life together, which are Groundhog’s Day-like in this era of COVID-19.
It’s tedious for me to kvetch to him because he can’t FIX it. (He loves fixing things.)
Joyful, impromptu connections used to fuel my spirits regularly.
Conversations across tables at restaurants, bonding over food envy (what DID they order?) Seatmates on airplanes telling fascinating tales of business and travel. Fashion shows in and out of dressing rooms with random patrons oohing at just the right moment, sealing the sale.
The dressing rooms are closed. You have to buy stuff and bring it home to try it on, which takes half of the fun out of it.
And you KNOW there’s no flying around happening anytime soon (for me, at least.)
Restaurants? On occasion, but have you noticed that people don’t make eye contact any more? It’s so hard to create connection behind a mask. I think I gained a few more eye wrinkles just trying to OVER express my hidden smile.
Which is why, THANKFULLY, this past week was my BIRTHDAY.
Anyone who knows me even a little knows I make a big freaking deal out of my birthday each year.
And not just because of presents, though anyone who knows me knows I LOVE PRETTY BOXES AND BOWS and surprises contained within them.
I love my birthday because people make a genuine effort to connect with me. Cards (rather than bills) in the mail! Bouquets (flowers AND fruit) were delivered to my door this year! Video messages and my brother-in-law Tony even performed an original song (written by my sister, Shirlee) sung as Elvis.
Dear ones connected through Zoom, Marco Polo, e-mail, text, phone, Vox, Hallmark, Facebook.
Other than smoke signals, every form of communication was employed.
I soaked it up like a dry old sponge.
Like a dry sponge.
Before we get into this week’s video, I gotta tell you a funny. Mark’s daughter, Tara, sweetly called me to wish me a happy birthday.
Not knowing me as well as most of YOU, she began, “I know when you get older birthdays aren’t a big deal…”
I gently protested, “Oh, I may be older, but birthdays are ALWAYS a big deal for me.”
Because birthdays mean connection.
And that’s the best gift of all.
(But the Ritz Carlton is a close second.)
More on connections, asking for what you want, and telling your story the way you WANT it to be here:
May our question marks turn into exclamation points of joy for all of us.