2020. The Plagues of Egypt part 2. THAT was 2020. Brought to us by someone who may or may not have found a bat minding its own business and decided that it belonged in his stomach. They don’t seem very meaty to me, but then who are we to tell people what to eat within the confines of their homes? Or maybe it was manufactured in a lab. No one knows.


What I know is, once 2020 had grabbed us by our ankles, turned us upside down, shaken everything loose, and then, just for good measure given us a slap that would make a Kenyan policeman blush, 2020 ghosted us, leaving us staring at our bloodied, black-eyed, toothless mugs in a basin of water (yes, 2020 was the kind of spiteful person who takes everything with them when they leave, including your cracked mirror and changes the Netflix password ).

And so when 2021 arrived, we were understandably shook. Because 2020 also took the Thermos and cups, 2021 received a rather lukewarm welcome. But 2021 was not spiteful, she didn’t hold it against us, she did her best to bandage our wounds, to soothe our broken hearts. She was one of those huggers whose hugs feel like home. She tried her best to wrestle the madimoni of 2020, even though they clung to her clothes like a film of sweat.

And just like that, 2020 is finally fading away, and 2021 is wishing us well as she walks out the door, leaving us with hope that 2022 will finally bring new mirrors, a Thermos full of hot tea and maybe even return our Netflix password.

Próspero Año Nuevo!

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