I was looking forward to a coronavirus birthday this year.

I normally don’t make a big deal about my birthday. I try to ignore my age, mentioning it but once a year, when I bicycle my age in miles, to show my brother, who died of heart disease, that I learned something from his fate. I’ll ride 66 miles this year.

This year was shaping up to be the perfect birthday for me, with virus isolation protocols forbidding interpersonal fanfare of any kind. Of all years, this birthday would be the easiest to ignore.

Then, the night before my birthday, I got a phone call from one of my favorite cousins whom I don’t see very often, as she lives out of town. I think she was tired of isolation, and I’m glad she was. Ever the colorful actor who has performed publicly, she called me to sing “Happy Birthday.”

She admitted I was the second person she sang to, having first dialed the wrong number and having sung “Happy Birthday” to a stranger to whom the birthday song didn’t apply.

After my applause, we chatted. She was born three days after me; we’re the same age. I think she’s special.

The morning of the easy-to-ignore birthday, my daughter called from Atlanta, Georgia, to wish me happy birthday. We had a nice talk.

Then, I was summoned to my back patio where two of my friends, who are also close neighbors, stood at a distance with a homemade happy birthday sign, assisted by my favorite unofficial grandson, Sawyer, not related by blood, but I will always consider him to be. I love the little guy.

They brought me a cupcake with a candle, perched on a circular pedestal, which turned out to be a wrapped roll of toilet paper. Very funny, and the perfect gift for our time.

After a midday round of golf, the perfect social distancing venue, my wife organized an impromptu happy hour on the driveway with several of our neighbors, lawn chairs properly distanced, of course.

We love our neighbors, but, for some reason, we had never done this in non-virus times. Coronavirus had brought us together. It was lots of fun, good conversation, a sense of gratitude in the air. So nice to have nice neighbors.

We barely had time for Paul’s Pasta takeout (ahh, chicken diablo!) before we figured out how to join a Zoom online meeting with our kids and their spouses, one in Atlanta, as mentioned, and the other in Homer, Alaska. You can imagine we don’t see him much.

Our Alaskan cruise planned for this June, after which we planned to visit his family, was canceled by the virus, so this moment was special.

It was wonderful for all of us to be in the same place at the same time, and see each other, even if only through computer screens. A chance to talk and joke among ourselves again.

The coronavirus, instead of helping me ignore my birthday, had actually made the day extra special, awakening a deeper appreciation for good health and the personal side of life: friends, family, conversation, neighbors, the gift of Zoom, and the comforting knowledge that terrible things only drive us closer as human beings.

John Steward lives in Waterford. He can be reached at tossinglines@gmail.com