Hannah came to our house this morning, as she has on most weekdays since before Kina’s first birthday, and Kina gave her a card that she drew herself. “HAPPE BRTHDAY,” it read. This is not Hannah’s actual birthday, but it’s near enough to it that Kina felt a card would be warranted, along with a hearty performance of “Happy Birthday To You”. We have celebrated Hannah’s birthdays during this pandemic with the same intensity as Kina’s and Laurea’s and my own, because she’s special, and because this moment is unusual and intense, and frankly because we’ve all had to cling to each other this year in ways we didn’t expect to. A year ago, Kina couldn’t write “Happy Birthday”, even poorly, and she certainly couldn’t have counted up to the proper ages of the people who care for her—even though this year she guessed that Hannah’s proper age was eleven.
Together, we’ve all lived through this pandemic, watched tragedy unfold and get (partially) folded back up, and seen this child grow. Hannah is uniquely responsible for much of what has kept Kina whole as that has all happened, and I hope we’ve helped to keep each other whole, too. We’re all a year older now—and Hannah would offer that she’s a little older than eleven, at least—and closer, and more protective of each other. Kina doesn’t draw cards for just anybody, and she certainly doesn’t like writing letters so much that she would fill a sheet of paper with them just to wish any normal person a specific happy birthday, but she very patiently wrote HAPPE BRTHDAY HANNAH KNIA in big green letters (Hannah’s very favorite color) on this card today, and that’s love, if you ask her.
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