Later, Tom and I are going to meet with friends to watch the sun set for the last time in this paper year.

In 2020, we relocated from the Bronx to Brooklyn. My commute to work went from and hour and 30 minutes to 30 minutes to zero minutes. We live in a neighborhood near a community park. We’ve cemented a friendship that began in Virginia (at least, I think we have). I’ve continued two friendships that began in a tiny adjunct faculty office with giant desks and no privacy. I learned how to create websites for college students. I am familiar with Zoom. I was able to refresh an old essay and saw it in virtual print again. A student’s mother died of COVID. Other students wept over Zoom. We’ve gotten used to handwashing our clothes and drying them on wooden racks. I’ve figured out how my novel will end. Now I just need to get to that end.

Like many, I want to say “good riddance” to this past year. Like many, I realize that just because our created timetable to tell us when to sleep, eat, worship (if we do so), and go to work is changing from 2020 to 2021, that doesn’t mean things will change. COVID will still be with us. Tr*mp will still be president. Those that are gone will still be gone. Those that are still struggling to breathe (literally and metaphorically) will continue to fight.

Here’s to everyone’s struggles over the past year. Here’s to everyone’s triumphs, no matter what the size. Here’s to everyone’s hopes for 2021.