I quarantined alone this whole pandemic. I spent every holiday alone in this living room. Struggling to stay positive, on Easter, my birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas, I selected a pretty, colorful outfit—with heels and dangly earrings, and a crown on my birthday—cooked a feast grand enough for relatives you see only once a year and want to impress, grabbed my selfie-stand and ringlight, set my phone’s timer and acted as Creative Director of my own photoshoot. My food, my smile and I look damn good in the photos. Make no mistake: there were tears before and after. Each. And. Every. Time.
I didn’t watch the ball drop. Unlike most of my twenties, I had plans with friends, thank goodness. For the second year in a row and what may be a new tradition, we caught a movie before moving on to the main event. Last year we watched “Into the Woods” before heading to the now closed Neely’s; this year “Daddy’s Home.” We didn’t watch a movie New Year’s Eve 2013, when we attended a Jill Scott concert at Radio City […]