Hey Nineteen. It's not you. It's me.

I have always loved the number 19. My sister and I were both born on the 19th of the month. I love the song Hey Nineteen by Steely Dan. I don't particularly like the meaning of Paul Hardcastle's Nineteen, but I like the beat. I was 19 the first time I fell in what I thought was love {turns out I didn't really understand true love until I met Said Boy.} The 19th amendment to the Constitution gave women the right to vote. Random fact: your number 19 tooth is a molar. I know this because mine has a filling. The 19th hole would be my favorite if I played golf.

But there is nothing for me to love about 19 anymore. 2019 and COVID-19 have ruined it for me. 2019 - a year of endless medical testing, biopsies, waiting for results, more biopsies and finally a second cancer diagnosis {NOT where all of the biopsies were, someplace new. Natch.}, surgery and recovery. i've never been one to wish away the days, but all I could think of was 2020 could not come fast enough.

2020 was to be such a magical year.

• She was Baptized in February.

• Said Boy and I celebrate 25 years of marriage in October.

• Our house was 100 years old in April.

• Capital City Bank was 125 years old in April.

• Chi Omega was 125 years old in April.

• She will be double digits in November.

SO. MUCH. CELEBRATING. denied by COVID-19.

• No Capital City Bank Shareowner celebration.

• No Georgia Street block party with Tallahassee Nights Live and Real Paella.

• No Chi Omega Convention and celebration.

• No trip to Africa.

• Hell, not even the culmination of my year as Chamber Chair at the annual conference at the Ritz Carlton. Where I was to stay in a SUITE.

COVID-19 jacked all of those plans. Instead, we have: (1) enjoyed months of social isolation, (2) suffered through dinners I cooked, (3) poorly homeschooled Her, (4) lost Her to Bloxburg (which is actually pretty cool,) and (5) watched so much Love It or List It that we talk about Hilary and David like they are friends we have over on Saturday night.

So 19 and I find ourselves at a crossroad. And this is my response.

Dear 19.

Please know, it's not you {well, it kinda is}, it's me. My head is telling me to quit worrying about your feelings and say what's in my heart - you can suck it. Strike that. What I really meant to write was that I never meant to hurt you and I hope you will find someone special.

I would love to remain friends, but I know that's just a trite way to close a letter when you are breaking someone's heart. I hope I am breaking your heart because you broke mine. Actually, you shattered it. Into about 19 pieces.

So suck it. We are SO over.

bhc

p.s. please don't ever forget how much i love my birthday. on the 19th.