To be fair I’ve had a margarita by the pool. So perhaps that is why this moment feels extra light. I don’t like to drink for a multitude of reasons. The need for control being the strongest pull. I know too clearly the going up is never worth the coming down. But despite all principal and knowledge, I sip—no devour—my poolside escape. 

It’s been a hard year for all of us. I know it’s been a hard year for you. I don’t like complaining because we can all think about those kids in Africa or India or America. Those kids who have less than us. Those mom’s who, even before a pandemic, were just barely surviving. But I’m realizing, as the world collectively suffers, we only diminish honesty if we don’t acknowledge our pain. 

So my hard year may be better or worse than yours. Or perhaps exactly the same. And so I pick up the sweating plastic glass rimmed in salt crystals filled with what they assure me is not a mix but taste exactly like one and I take a gulp. Knowing I won’t love the awakening in an hour or two. But it’s been a hard year.