Again I find myself on the last day of the year – one of my very favorites of all the days – remembering the year that is about to end. Instead of taking you through our 2025 – the good, the bad, the heartworms – I’ll just focus on the ups and downs of December, as it’s a very good sample indeed.

One afternoon at work a few weeks ago, I suddenly had to move a baby grand piano from the dance studio onto the big stage moments before a kindergarten tap performance started in one room and a preschool piano recital in the other. I also had to locate three pairs of lost tap shoes. It was the kind of absurd chaos that happens to me daily in December. Thankfully there’s always a good friend or two nearby to help my weak little arms and multi-tasking brain. But this particular five minutes also included Huck texting emails for me to proofread before sending them to a professor and an advisor in order to drop an impossible graduate level course at the very last minute. The urgency all around me was, as they say, palpable! Never have I felt more important, more valuable to my society! My society of little children and a 20-year-old!

The recitals were adorable, the emails perfect, and the class was dropped as if it never happened. “I learned a lot of lessons this semester,” Huck has repeated more than once this month. Also more than once this month I have listened patiently to many math lectures, pretending to understand things like combinatorics and set theory while secretly thinking about Pluribus. I will always appreciate our child’s valiant attempts to teach me, just like the good old days.

During our very, very warm Christmas week, we resisted turning on the air conditioner and instead got out the flip flops. After returning home from long. hot dog walks, I would take off Franny’s and Zuzu’s bras – or collars – so they could cool down. Confused like the rest of us, our daffodils started to come up. On Christmas Eve while sunbathing in the backyard with the sisters on their second birthday I heard a neighbor shout on the other side of our fence, “NOOOOOO!!! THE BEAUTIFUL GARDEN IS GONE!!!!” And though the day was warm as May, Troy’s flowers are long gone and the once beautiful side yard is now very bare as if it never happened. “It will all return in the spring!” I felt like shouting. And also: “Look: Daffodils!”

Two days after Christmas, Huck had a minor car wreck while dropping off a friend following an afternoon spent at Crystal Bridges. It was a fender-bender caused by a forgotten blind-spot check, adding one more lesson to the growing list. “If I never have to drive again, I’ll be happy,” Huck repeated more than once, thankful for friends willing to be private chauffeurs for the next week.

As the final few days of December arrived, so did a blessed cold front that has found us once again gathered in the cozy Christmas tree room with candles and a blazing fire. I can tell Huck is beginning to look ahead to semester six – sending TA emails, daydreaming about new math classes, attending Zoom rehearsals and board meetings – one that will hopefully be more manageable and less stressful thanks to lessons learned and only one graduate level course.

For Troy and me, this year was mostly about taking care of Franny and Zuzu – healing, loving, holding, walking, playing – and letting go of Huck just a little bit more. This was best summed up in Troy’s 34th annual Christmas card that did not contain a single human for the first time ever! What can we say; when two little creatures show up and heal your broken hearts, you feel indebted to them forever. Watching Huck take comfort in them every single day has been my favorite part of this sweet Christmas break.

While trying to wrap up these thoughts on the losses and lessons and joys of life, I’ve decided to end this New Year’s Eve blog with Mizuta Masahide’s beautiful haiku:

Barn’s burnt down –
now
I can see the moon.

There’s a naughty list?

It goes without saying that Huck’s a passionate mathematician who writes proofs in his sleep, but did you know that he’s also the board secretary for his school’s student-led theatre organization Scotch ‘n Soda? He loves being on the producing side of things and dealing with the drama of it all, both on and off stage, which he clearly inherited from his mother. The other day I asked how their current show was going, and he listed all the elements that had suddenly come together magically, resulting in a completely different show (in the very best way). As a fellow theatre person, I had to send him every theatre person’s favorite theatre quote from Shakespeare in Love:

“Allow me to explain about the theatre business. The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster.”

“So what do we do?”

“Nothing. Strangely enough, it all turns out well.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It’s a mystery.”

And of course every theatre person knows that “nothing” is the last thing we do; it all turns out well because of the unbelievable amount of work that is poured into it. The mystery is that we keep forgetting the power of a group of humans creating something together.

And like so many quotes and metaphors, this one is true for all of life, really.

This time last year Troy and I were adjusting to much loss, grief, and stress. The month leading up to my dad’s move into assisted living, which coincided almost immediately with our puppy’s sudden death, we daughters pilfered through his home of 55 years to begin the long process of emptying it. For me this meant taking some favorite paintings of his, an outstanding collection of seasonal hand towels, and half a dozen wind chimes that bring me daily comfort and a quick stab of pain. In a year’s time our dad has lost his home, his car, and most recently his dog Elvis (who is now living his best life with my sister 560 miles away). A full year later, he’s still planning to “go back home tomorrow” every single day, filling boxes that we secretly unpack when he’s not looking. Some days are spent looking for his lost dog, until we remind him Elvis is happily playing at doggie daycare and will be home soon. Because all the rules dissolve with Alzheimer’s, we have become a loving band of liars in a desperate attempt to keep our old man from feeling anxiety and sadness.

We sisters and our exceptionally handsome husbands are also a group of humans creating something together. We aren’t sure what it is, but it’s something. We have an ongoing text thread called Hotts Dots ‘n Lawful Bros about UTIs, collapsed lungs, animal and laundry neglect, oxygen tanks, falls, hospice, tooth pain, uncharged phones, and many other insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster. But this thread also contains jokes, Thanksgiving plans, recipes, advice, gratitude, sudden healing, encouragement, photos of the world’s cutest couple, and even a treasured recording of a butt dial fart. It is all of this combined that helps the six of us transition into the inevitable and slow letting go of the two people who gave us life all those years ago.

And hopefully “it all turns out well.” Just like that.

After nearly eight weeks of squeezing himself back into our nest, Huck returned to Pittsburgh a few days ago for his third year of college bliss. Favorite quotes of the summer: “Oh no! I forgot I have a board meeting!” and “I’ll be right there as soon as I finish this spreadsheet.” On his second to last night Troy and I had our only tech nightmare of the summer as we settled down to watch another creepy show and realized our TV audio wasn’t working. After many failed attempts to “do what Huck would do,” we submissively admitted defeat and watched him bravely, patiently bring British accents and dramatic music back into our home. There was no scolding, no judgement, no lecture, no teaching, no tears – just a heartfelt “thank you” and a simple “you’re welcome.”

We’ve all grown up!

Over his two months in Arkansas Huck enjoyed fun-filled visits from the Tacketts, Nickels, and Shannon, much cuddling with Franny & Zuzu, sleepovers at the “Holly House” with his Fayetteville besties, favorite restaurants, one visit to the Mount Sequoyah Pool, one Games Night, one hot tub, Eureka Springs, dog walks, Adventure Time, making delicious Marry Me Tofu, renewing his 2020 passport that was sadly never used and expired in June, his first professional massage, his first Comedy of Errors, his first new play reading, and of course the aforementioned Zoom board meetings in his childhood bedroom.

And like every good 20 year old son, Huck is experiencing perimenopausal symptoms alongside me so that together we can complain about hot flashes, achy bodies, and lack of sleep. Fortunately for me, hormone replacement therapy is available and encouraged. I never thought I’d say or hear the words “estrogen patch” as much as I did this summer, amirite ladies?

And so begins Huck’s junior year of college as a math major, possible Russian minor, Head TA, CMU Singer, and Scotch ‘n Soda Board Secretary while living in an overpriced apartment with CMU besties. On the way to the airport Thursday morning he was animated and chatty and proudly announced, “You know how people ask what you would do if money were no object, if you could spend your time however you wanted? I would do exactly what I’m doing. I just wish I could do it all year.”

I skipped mentioning that money only felt like no object because we were the ones paying (amirite, parents?) and just grinned—nostalgic for my own college days and oh so thankful that he’s loving his.

And now back to our clean and tidy nest that just got a lot bigger.

These two had a chocolate blueberry cake date and forgot to take a picture so they got creative for me.

On one of our favorite days—when shiny happy people gather in rainbow colors, waving flags in support of loved ones who deserve more pride and less shame for living authentically in a harsh world—we made a joyful detour to the airport and brought our baby home for the summer! Huck is now halfway through college and enjoyed sleeping in every morning and doing math research every afternoon with a favorite professor these last seven weeks. Please don’t ask me what math research means; I don’t know! When I last requested details he asked, “Do you want the actual answer or more of a theatre analogy?” Analogy please, I said timidly. So basically they succeeded in doing a scene from an impossible play and then concluded their time together by experimenting with the entire complicated script. But with math.

As the temperatures rise and the thunderstorms and tornado watches seem to have finally ended (though it is raining as I write this), Troy and I have kicked off our seventh annual summer break with patio sitting, flower admiring, and dog cuddling. Franny survived her four month heartworm treatment and life is back to normal while we wait for her official diagnosis in November. We call Franny and Zuzu The Wonder Twins, as they regularly strike the very same pose while sleeping, squirrel hunting, or just being cute. We’ve got a new fence and new patio furniture that thankfully came with rain covers, which we’ve gotten very good at taking on and off, on and off, on and off. We began the summer with a fun-filled visit from our favorite Texas Gregs, then spent a week in Kansas and Colorado where we celebrated our dad’s 84th birthday with Jeni and Nathan to ignite those long term memories.

Some silver linings of Alzheimer’s: the ability to make a person happy and surprised merely by your presence over and over and over and over again AND the constant reminder of what it’s like to live fully in the present moment. If only we could master these skills without losing all of our short-term memory and life as we knew it.

While in Wichita we celebrated our other Wonder Twins, Jackson and Rylee, turning 15 with Troy’s family and spent some time with my mom who is now on Hospice care due to a collapsed lung and very frail body. She’s on oxygen and receives regular visits from nurses who pamper her with their tender loving care, and we’re told she may live like this for quite a while. She loved the North Pole t-shirt our dad brought back to her, a place they first visited on their honeymoon and would later bring their daughters and eventually grandchildren.

Meanwhile we’re watching a beautiful, epic Korean story on Netflix called “When Life Gives you Tangerines,” and each episode is a tender (and often funny) work of art. When the protagonists’ first baby is born, they call her their Eternal Nostalgia. As ours unpacks and makes himself back at home for the next two months, like Emily from Our Town I want to whisper to him to enjoy his parents’ youth, energy, and cognitive abilities, even though he’s probably taking note of our gray hairs, crows feet, and the chorus of “ows” when we get up from a resting position.

“Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it — every, every minute?” (Thornton Wilder)

As we feed Franny and Zuzu a mixture of chicken, spinach, carrots, and green beans atop their dry kibble, along with the occasional frozen blueberries and mango, and some pumpkin now and then, we like to picture Max, Molly, Sunny, and even Otis gathered together in doggie heaven looking at each other and shouting, “What the hell!”

My sister says this excessive doggie pampering,which includes routinely buying pricey elk antlers, yak chews, and obedience classes, is a direct result of empty nesting. With our child no longer at home to dote and spend money on, we’ve redirected our attention, affection, and forgiveness to a sea of tan and white, whom we lovingly call our Angel Babies from Heaven. Even Huck regularly uses this moniker when requesting pics.

Nearly all of our blankets have a random hole in them, and most of our sheets and pillow cases have either been destroyed or eaten at the edges. One day we attempted to separate the sisters while we were at work in hopes of protecting their spay incisions from each other’s mouths. It was the dreaded January 6th, soon to be forever referred to as Zuzu’s Insurrection Day, wherein she somehow got the cone of shame off her head, tore off the molding around the door, brought down the curtains, ripped parts of a picture frame apart, filled the floor with sawdust, wood pieces, and nails, and somehow did no damage to herself.

We no longer separate them.

At their first vet appointment, two weeks to the day of adopting them, we learned that Franny has heartworm infection. We’ve survived the first month of her treatment and are now starting the second, which is a bit of a reprieve. The real work begins in mid-March when Franny will receive her first of three injections that require cage rest and sedation for around ten weeks. The final test to see if she’s completely heartworm free is scheduled for January 16, 2026.

We’ve loved dogs, we’ve lost dogs, and now we’re cherishing every minute with these two and looking forward to warmer days with normal activities like walks and dog parks and playing. When Huck was little he made a small black spot with a Sharpie on his lime green comforter. When asked why, he innocently answered that he just wanted to see what it would look like. And though I love my blankets to be intact and Sharpie-free, every single damaged portion makes me smile.

A year ago!