Apparently Troy and I are in the Sandwich Generation as middle aged people who are simultaneously caring for children and elderly parents. Of course Huck is an adult who’s doing fine on his own, but there’s still emotional labor involved in parenting him from afar (as well as his financial dependence on us). And nothing compares to the stress and sadness of watching your parents grow older and lose their memories, personalities, and marbles.

In an urgent turn of events, we’re moving both of mine into a lovely facility in Wichita near my sister Lori this weekend. Dad and his best friend Elvis the dog will be in a one-bedroom assisted living apartment while Mom and her stuffed animals will be down the hall in memory care. For them to be under the same roof again answers a lot of frantic prayers over the last four and a half years, and though this is a life change like no other for all of us, we three sisters are grateful. And a little unhinged.

These past few weeks have been a frenzy of trips back and forth between Kansas and Arkansas (and Iowa for my sister Jeni) as we navigated dementia, toured facilities, and began preparing our childhood home – where I was brought as a newborn with sideburns in 1970 – to be emptied and sold. (Does anyone want a painting?) Husbands took turns taking their father in-law to the neurologist, giving new meaning to the phrase “in sickness and in health.”

Due to a refreshing bit of timing, in the middle of all this was our long planned trip to Pittsburgh for fall break. Huck was a welcome breath of fresh air with his youth and carefree conversations. He excitedly showed us every single classroom of every single class he has taken or is taking at CMU, and in one of them he gave us a sample T.A. lecture that took me right back to his childhood. (Except that back then I could pretend to know what he was saying.) He made us smoothies every morning in his beautiful apartment, showed us “The Dungeon” where he builds sets, props, and costumes, and together we explored beautiful Pittsburgh. When I look at our one and only progeny and imagine the three of us in 30 years, I feel bad for not giving him at least two siblings.

In between our travels west and east, last week Otis developed seasonal allergies and was prescribed steroids that can, and did, cause incontinence. All over our house. I’m not sure how a one-year-old sneezing, peeing, adorable puppy fits into the Sandwich Analogy, but it’s getting crowded in here.

After returning from Pittsburgh I emptied my suitcase, did some laundry, and filled it up again to head back to Kansas for one more night on Marc Street with my dad and sisters. Can I handle the seasons of my life? I hope so.

Huck left us this morning in the fives to begin his second year of college hundreds of miles away. Yesterday he packed all his things up in two suitcases and several boxes for us to ship, said goodbye to his besties, and then came home to walk Otis with me through the neighborhood one last time. After a family pizza dinner we attempted a reenactment of our old Mommy/Huck dance to the song “Sugarfoot” from days of yore (but quickly cut some of our more famous moves when we realized how much weight he’s put on since age three.) Randomly (and magically) Shawn Colvin’s cover of “You’re Going to Make Me Lonesome When You Go” popped up on my dinner playlist, so we slow danced around the living room together, which was really just a very long hug.

Huck came home in early May as we were ending one school year, and he’s left us in late August as we begin another. To quote my friend Sara back in New York City, Troy and I are experiencing the “wonderful terribles.” To quote my friend Shana right here in Fayetteville … it’s a “heart clench.” And to quote Bob Dylan, “You’re gonna have to leave me now, I know. But I’ll see you in the sky above, in the tall grass, in the ones I love. You’re gonna make me lonesome when you go.”

One July afternoon this summer Huck compared coming home from college to having been on a trampoline for many months and getting used to the fun, unnatural feeling of jumping high into the air over and over again. Returning home was like suddenly getting off the trampoline and adjusting to the normal ground and rules of gravity, making it a little difficult to walk at first.

He’s been home since early May, so it’s safe to assume he’s quite accustomed to the solid earth beneath his feet by now. As he nears his return to the trampoline life in 11 days, Troy and I are getting extra hugs, affection, and quality time. Most nights, right as we’re about to turn on BritBox for another exciting British procedural, Huck enters the room with a flourish, makes the dog bark excitedly, and plops onto the couch for deep conversation.

People have asked us if Huck has changed since going to college, and while there’s so much about him that’s the same (luxurious hair, cup hoarding, a penchant for lounging around with his phone like Ennui from “Inside Out 2”), there’s one striking difference I’ve watched develop over the summer: He’s sometimes sweet to Otis. He invented a little game with him, praises his rare obedience, lets him outside halfway through the day now that we’re back at work, accompanies me on late afternoon dog walks, and laughs pretty hard at his antics. While none of this seems like anything special, trust me. It would be like me being nice to a snake.

And speaking of Huck’s little corgi brother, this summer Otis discovered the joy of our bathtub. He technically can jump in without assistance, as I’ve discovered him in there unexpectedly a few times, but he really prefers to be lifted up and plopped gently down. Running a little water makes the experience extra exciting, as does washing him with a cloth. Post-bathtub (with or without water) sends him speeding through our house like a maniacal tri-colored rocket.

Earlier this summer I asked Troy why Huck often lacks a sense of urgency in matters that require it, and he sang these Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young lyrics to me, which I would like to now dedicate to both Huck & Otis:

Don’t you ever ask them why

If they told you, you would cry

So just look at them and sigh

And know they love you.

Apparently puppies go through two “fear periods” – one at 8-11 weeks old and another sometime between 6-14 months. At the ripe old age of nine months and following our five day trip to Kansas a few weeks ago, Otis began acting very frightened at times, cowering in strange corners and desperately trying to get into our car any chance he could. We joked that it was because he missed his Kansas relatives so much; we feared that he somehow knew our house was about to burn down. There’s not much we can do during these phases except hold him, talk gently, go for a car ride, brush his hair and teeth, and wait for him to return to his confident, playful, naughty self.

My fear periods revolve around Huck, money, health, mortality, the election, my parents, & the puppy. There’s not much anyone can do during these phases except have coffee with me on the patio, plant more flowers, go on a bike ride, go on a dog walk, let me read or nap in the hammock, and put me in my pink pool inner tube whilst Troy swims laps around me.

We have about a month left of our sweet, slow summer staycation, and Huck has seven more weeks of dependent independence with us. We are basically Empty Nesters with a Corgi Sidekick and a Celebrity Guest Star who makes Cameo Appearances. We are constantly out of clean towels and cups, and the corgi still barks at the guest star when he comes through any door at any time day or night. (Recently Huck did a whimsical little leap in the air, which sent Otis into a barking frenzy of frantic laps around our coffee table.) We’ve enjoyed lots of meals and games nights together, had deep conversations and the occasional bicker, and we’re beginning to imagine this final summer coming to an end. But before that happens, there’s more Mr. Troy in the creek on Saturday mornings, a quick father/son trip to Chicago, and a visit from Aunt Jeni!

“During fear periods, puppies (& Jonny) become more sensitive and aware of the world around them. They may be more concerned about new objects or experiences, and even things that they previously might have enjoyed can become worrisome. The confident, engaged, and smart puppy (Jonny) you had just a day ago is now insecure and worried about a harmless object. Don’t worry—this isn’t forever!” (-American Kennel Club)

Photo taken by our niece Rylee on her 14th birthday!

Our home is filled again with the smells of incense and sounds of Lana del Rey as Huck crochets bags, complains of spiders in his bathroom, and processes the many experiences of his first year of college. It took us a little while to get our groove, what with his piles of things everywhere and all the incense, plus for the past nine months we’ve enjoyed some newfound independence from each other. Troy and I never returned to our childhood homes once we left for college in 1988 except for brief visits, so we don’t know what it’s like to taste freedom and then move back home for 108 days. Thankfully we’re perfect parents, so I’m sure he’s loving every minute of it!

Our summer so far has included bike rides (thanks to my new one), lots of swims, visits from favorite Texans & Kansans, Otis’ first haircut & only castration, a dance party, wonderful books, sci-fi TV, gardening, coffee on the patio, card playing, dog walks, hammock naps, a day trip to Eureka Springs, waiting for Huck to find a job, a fallen tree in our backyard, a broken toilet, an eye infection, and new brake pads for Huck’s car.

Because It’s Always Something.

The other day Otis was trying very hard to get a treat out of his “Snoop” dog toy designed to give ornery puppies a challenge, and over and over again I fought the urge to solve the puzzle for him.  It was so familiar, this feeling. So, so familiar. Only instead of a 19 year old human taller than me, I desperately wanted to help a 19 pound crazy corgi running through the house trying to get a pitiful treat out of a silicone toy. I resolved to look away and let him handle it himself, until hours later I found the abandoned toy stuck under a couch and realized my expertise was required. And that right there is the problem. MY EXPERTISE IS ALWAYS REQUIRED AROUND HERE!

So if you need web design, video editing, math tutoring, data entry, or if you know of anyone hiring, please reach out to our very available child before he uses up all the yarn in town. In the meantime, we will enjoy his potentially last summer at home in our very full nest.

My aging parents have officially lost all sense of time, and I guess this is when it begins. In your fifties, empty nesters, your baby out in the world. “Where does the time go?” they say. I look at this picture of Huck from 2013 (taken by Shannon during an early morning algebra lecture) and shake my head in wonder. I could walk into the other room and find him like this and be unsurprised.

These days I keep catching myself saying “this time last year” and remembering Huck’s last day of high school, awards ceremonies, graduations, parties, and all the emotions, stress, and fun of May 2023. Having survived his first year of college I realize how different those realities are; it’s like the difference between parenting a baby and a toddler. Both are pretty dependent on you for everything, both are cute in their own ways, but walking makes all the difference. Even thinking back to how I felt last semester – checking the CMU webcam for a celebrity sighting, his class schedule posted on my work bulletin board, trying to memorize all his professors’ and friends’ names – compared to the end of year when I no longer need to know what he’s doing every second and have finally given up on identifying people in pictures.

Here’s what I do know about my toddler’s second semester of college: He struggled and learned never again to overload on classes. He had a couple of beautiful choir concerts – one accompanied by the Carnegie Mellon Philharmonic Orchestra – and that he loves being in charge of props for plays and musicals. He joined the newspaper club as a copy editor and got hired as a Tartan Ambassador giving tours to prospective students while wearing a sharp red polo. And I know that when asked why he wanted to be a math TA for his favorite professor next year, he described the many years his mother (& others) endured his math lectures on white boards and how fun it sounds to help  math students who actually understand what he’s talking about. (I feel responsible for him getting the job.)

Tomorrow Huck will leave his freshman dorm for the last time and drag his luggage onto the bus to the airport for his summer visit home. This morning Huck FaceTimed to talk through how to check a bag at the airport “because I’ve never done that before.” And just like that, I became the expert again for a fleeting minute.

Where does the time go?

Huck at the Pittsburgh Zoo during Finals Week (with Jacqueline maybe?)

Last September when we received Sunny’s ashes in a beautiful wooden box with flowers engraved on the top, we also received a sweet certificate with a poem as if written by her.  This was the final line: “Don’t hold the love that you have within yourself. Give it to another like me and then I will live forever.” Troy was ready to follow these instructions; I was not. Until a day in mid-February when without warning, I suddenly was. The timing wasn’t quite right, as our very anti-dog son was about to come home for an early spring break that coincided with his 19th birthday. Nonetheless, our Facebook feeds immediately became filled with ads for dog food, dog beds, and pet insurance due to our sudden obsession with the local dog shelters, Petfinder, and NWA Corgi social media pages.

And that’s how we found Otis, the five month old 13 pound tri-colored Pembroke Welsh Corgi who has taken over our lives! To quote one of our friends, he’s “deliberate premeditated cuteness.” He inspires high pitched squeals wherever he goes and loves all strangers. He has a British accent, his old brother Max’s passionate bark, and boundless play energy until he suddenly falls asleep. He’s scared of Troy’s guitar and gardening equipment and needs a running start to jump onto the couch. He eats voraciously, has very sharp teeth, and recently discovered Sunny’s private water fountain in our little backyard pond. He came to us crate trained, but sometimes Troy “accidentally” falls asleep with him in the bed. He loves a pillow top mattress!

Huck was not pleased with this decision, to put it lightly, but when he met this new family member he said, “I can see how if you like dogs you might think he was cute.” When our friend Shana asked how he felt about Otis, he answered, “Only negative things.” After the laughter subsided he added, “But I’m happy for my parents.”

So are we!

And of course … HAPPY 19TH BIRTHDAY TO HUCK!!!

What a wonderful four weeks we had with Huck, known as Will to his professors and friends in Pittsburgh. He struck a very nice balance of spending quality time with his lonely old parents and his high school friends. Thanks to two full snow days, including the day before he left, we got some cozy bonus hours. (And he got out of town just in time to miss the current zero temps and snow.) There were card games and board games and puzzles, neighborhood walks, trips to Target, and so many fireside conversations. He took lots of candle lit bubble baths, ate at his favorite restaurants, sang with his favorite choir, and rang in the New Year with so many favorite grown-ups. And now he is back at CMU – though we did forget to buy him snow boots – ready for a packed second semester that includes more math, computer science, writing, biology, and choir.

One of the biggest changes for Huck during his first college semester is that he finally (barely) let go of his forever 4.0, thanks to the wisdom of his favorite professor who urges freshmen to find a school/life balance. He took many difficult math classes – officially feeling happily challenged in his favorite subject – and made the Mellon College of Science Dean’s List with Honors. He was given permission to“overload” in the spring semester with an extra class, including honors calculus, proving yet again that the stuff of my nightmares is his dream come true. And finally, he and his college bestie are doing props together for the first Scotch ‘n Soda play of the semester, something he is weirdly excited about. (I predict it has to do with spreadsheets.)

Fayetteville friends whose son went to college in NYC warned us that every visit home ends with another grief session, though slightly less each time. As he walked away from us into the airport Saturday morning with his pink floral suitcase and flowing mane of hair, I felt that familiar heart-clench as my dang brain played a precious medley of the last month. But now we know how it feels to live without him, knowing he’ll be back, loving all the stories from his new life, mentally preparing that next care package.

When Huck finally got back to Pittsburgh he texted a picture of his 9:30pm mozzarella sticks dinner at a campus food joint. I asked if it was fun to be back and he responded “yessss. everything is exactly as i left it.”

As it should be.

On the Fayetteville Square there’s a little store that for years has had a very large, expensive piece of word art that I always stop to read, and it fills my eyes with tears every time. I must have mentioned this casually to Troy in the last month or so, because he visited the store, gasped at the size and price, and made his own version of it for me. Upon investigative researching, he discovered that it’s part of a beautiful short 1970 essay called “Let me Hold you While I May” by Mary Jean Irion, and here are the final words:

“Normal Day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it will not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want more than all the world your return.”

We’ve had a lot of perfectly normal days this Christmas break, our home once again filled with the sound of Huck’s voice and laughter, the smell of incense, the very sight of him. He’s been relaxed, affectionate, and present, doing puzzles and regularly winning at family card games. He doesn’t snack like the old Huck, and when asked why he said, “I realized how expensive chips were so I stopped buying them.” He has a new appreciation for home cooked meals and doesn’t do nearly the same amount of laundry as he used to. He still loves to sit and visit but has noticed his parents’ propensity to enter a room loudly and interrupt all conversations, causing him to sarcastically ask: “Can we play a game called when you enter this room last and there’s people talking, you are the lowest status?” This has proven especially tricky for Mr. Troy.

On January first of this fine year filled with the ups and downs of all years, we began filling an oversized glass jar with “good things” that were happening in our lives with the intention of emptying the jar on New Year’s Eve and reading the many, many colored note cards aloud. I know there will be lots of reminders of the big days we had in 2023 – Huck’s high school graduation, trips, visitors, celebrations, performances, college move-in day – but I’m most excited to read about all those wonderful normal days that got noticed.

Happy New Year, dear family & friends!

When Huck was three, we were given an Elf on the Shelf, having no idea it would take over the world. We named ours Dixen and happily played along, hiding him each night so that Huck could find him in the morning with delight. Being one of those kids who figures things out quickly, he didn’t believe in this magic for long, but that did not, has not, stopped these parents. In fact, though Huck is oh so many miles away, still Troy and I take turns moving Dixen and documenting his location via our family text thread. I don’t know if Huck enjoys this ridiculous ritual or finds it embarrassing, but this mother apparently needs something to stay the same around here.

After a week of finals, including one that required three solid hours of intense proof writing (his kind of magic) followed by a 10pm a capella concert Tuesday night, Huck begins his journey home tomorrow morning. Thanks to Aunt Jeni, he’s now an experienced air traveler, which takes some anxiety out of the picture. Still, I will be most happy when he’s here on the couch next to me gazing at his Christmas tree, happy to have a bedroom to himself again for four weeks.