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Celebrating With JD
By Beth Gordon
I wanted to start the New Year with you but I’m with my parents and you’re with friends, we send
each other photos of wine and scheduled festivities, early dinner for me, two margaritas by 7 and we will not see the ball drop, but discuss statistical improbabilities of them dying together, my mother
brings me the list of phone numbers, doctors, lawyers, the medical school where their bodies will go, I search their garage for noisemakers, confetti, do you want this box of ornaments, we didn’t put up a Christmas tree this year. For you, late night dancing with aging hippies who will soon have these same conversations or maybe just stay stoned until the day they die, follow John Lennon’s ghost into uncharted towns and discover the truth about Area 57 and who shot JFK, your face is unreadable in the dim light, are you happy, are you hopeful, are you loved? You tell me that neighbors brought you a new stove, you cooked breakfast at midnight to celebrate, eggs over easy and hashed brown potatoes, it’s a good stove, you say, but it takes some getting used to and I say I know exactly what you mean.