Today, I turned thirty-nine.

I celebrated the day with my most favorite people in the world: my wife, my son, and my dog – my “quaranteam” with whom I’ve spent nearly every moment of the past year.

This year was unique not only because of the pandemic, but also because it was a year that I took off from work. It just so happened that my wife did the same. Our decisions to do so were made pre-pandemic and exclusive of each other’s, but the timing was extremely fortuitous for us both.

We’ve lived a lifetime in this past year – time moves differently in lockdown, yeah, but we’ve also been lucky to cram in so much as a family: we “closed up shop” in New York, we quarantined in the Catskills, we drove across the country for the first time (albeit in record time with as few touch points as possible), and we posted up in Southern California. The time away from work allowed us to be present with one another and with our son. I think Miles (our dog) would agree that our bond is stronger than ever.

I don’t know what this next year has in store – none of us do anymore. But, in the meantime, I’m going to continue to pack in as much as I can before my thirties are up.