When I first drafted the June newsletter, the below is what came out. I sent it to my mom, as I always do, and said, “What do you think?”

She read it. Liked it? (Let me know in the comments, Mom) Made some suggestions. Then said, “Maybe it’s toooo much.”

Too heavy. Too sad. Too personal.

I had to laugh. How on brand of me to start with a cute, vibe-y New York fate story and then jump straight into sad. She didn’t tell me to take it out of the newsletter, but I had to agree, maybe it was toooo much.

So while it is a little heavy, a little sad, and deeply personal, I still love the piece and hope some of you can relate.

The OG too sad to share birthday post

Sometimes, I think of birthdays like a feather that floats ever lower throughout the year except when the feather finally lands, it hits you like a boulder.

I’ve never been a fan of birthdays— always felt that crushing weight of missed opportunities. Of wasted time. Thankfully, those days are behind me.

June is my birthday month—the 22nd. I’m a Cancer to the core.

On my 30th, I tried to run from that weight.

I texted my cousin, Chris.

Might go to NY for my birthday. Wanna meet up?

He replied: Of course

Then: What’s going on?

I don’t have siblings. Chris is two years younger than me, but he’s really like a big brother. He's the first call I make when life slides sideways. He always answers.

A history montage:

Grandpa’s funeral

Sitting cross-legged in front of Grandma’s TV, watching Dirty Dancing. Chris didn't go to the funeral, so I stayed behind with him. I was there when he died. I’d seen enough.

He was eight and having a meltdown. In my periphery, the funeral procession crept by out the window. Chris was, screaming. Patrick Swayze was dancing the Mambo. Grandpa was gone.

Older now

Swinging his little brother by his arms and legs on Grandma’s front lawn. His brother slipped from our grasp and fell, bursting into tears. A horrified look between us. Chris scooped him up in his arms, shot me a glance and said, “He fell.” In a, that’s what happened, kind of way.

“Okay,” I said with a nod.

Highschool visit in Florida

“We're going to Miami. Tomorrow.”

“Chris. I am not going to Miami with you.”

Nineteen

Bahamas trip with our Moms. Chris brought his girlfriend. I was a third wheel, but they never made me feel like one. We stayed out all night, climbed into hotel fountains, snuck into casinos, ate room service in the hallway.

The water was so blue.

More heartbreak. Some shared, some separate. But no matter how long we go without talking, we pick it up again. So easy. The invisible string glows. Two ends of a tin can phone. Who needs the cables?

The 30th birthday trip was scary for me. The first time I travelled alone in years. Testing the waters of rediscovery. New independence.

I texted him after I arrived from somewhere in the West Village.

So hungry. Don’t know what to eat.

(I’m scared. alone. what am I doing here?)

He replied:

So grab a slice. It’s New York.

(breathe. you’re fine. chill.)

I grabbed a slice. I was fine.

We went to Beauty and Essex for dinner. Treated his youngest sister and her boyfriend because we were the adults. It was Gatsby-esque, with its tiered floors, chandeliers, and Champagne (okay, Prosecco) fountain bathrooms.

Maybe birthdays aren’t so bad.

Then he humoured me. Let me drag him to every speak-easy I’d overly researched across the city and back again. (They were all awful.)

My favourite photo of us. We look so conspiratorial.

And then it was over.

Hugs.

Tears.

Soon.

It was the greatest birthday. And it wasn’t about having the greatest birthday. It was about support. He knew that. He always does.

That might be the greatest gift of all.

So here we are in June again, and with a warm summer breeze, the feather goes back into the air. This year, the fall will be gold-spun and stardust. Dreams coming true, and some heartbreak, too.

However the feather falls, I'm ready for it.

The Post That Was Too Sad To Share

It’s Cake Day!