My Dearest Love,
Oh what a year it’s been.
This time last year, we worried over which specialized schools the kids should attend, and whether the stress of after-school activities would overwhelm us — if only we knew how lucky we were. There’s been talk of a COVID baby boom, but I gotta be honest: after being cooped up inside for so long, I’m not really eager to add a screaming infant.
We still made some visits to our favourite restaurants before things closed down, and thankfully many were still able to able to provide take-out. I am sorry though, for eating the leftover chicken as a midnight snack, and for waking you up when I pounded my fist on the table and screamed, “Oh my god this is so good,” but we shouldn’t have ordered the extra sauce.
You’ve always been more stylish than I am, and thanks to your suggestion last spring to go bold, I’ve started incorporating red leather into my wardrobe. And I kinda feel like I’m crushing it. We finally started a garden, and found an adorable way to shoo away the slugs (even though the duck poop was a bit much).
Last summer was nice, all things considered, and I think that not going anywhere allowed us to appreciate what we have even more. Oh, and your idea to buy bikes in the winter was brilliant.
As the tally rose, I admit I got a bit depressed. The pandemic started surging, and it wasn’t the only thing causing pain. As always, you helped me rally, and created something beautiful in the process. By Christmas, I was ready to (safely) celebrate.
As we approach the end of the toughest 12 months in living memory, I know things are still tough. But in a year like no other, you’ve stayed strong, and as beautiful as ever.
I love you, Edmonton.
Ed.
