What summer looks like from my almost-empty nest — Ten years ago my kids were eleven and eight and the shape of my summer was completely different. Back then, I was obsessed with keeping the girls busy while trying to get work done from my home office. It was chaos. It was hard. It was all about to come…

Am I building a spreadsheet of medical appointments and notes to remind myself later that I did my best? — My parents have been experiencing a precipitous decline in health since last summer. Surely, some of it was decline that I missed during time apart before Covid vaccines allowed us to begin visiting again. …

Choosing what my parents bring to the nursing home is making me see what’s essential — I’ll be moving my parents cross-state this weekend — barring any COVID lockdowns at their new nursing facility. My weekly to-do list is a mess of back-to-the-office chores and prep for the move. There’s a doodled formula: the rate at which my father uses his oxygen times the longest conceivable…

Extreme longevity is a mixed blessing — at best — “Why can’t I just take a pill?” my mother has pleaded over and over since she turned 100. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” It’s a perfectly reasonable question, with no good answer. And that’s just not fair. …

How an eight-year-old kid with the exact hairstyle I wanted saved my entire day — I went roller skating yesterday for the first time since I was in like fourth grade and my partner said “You’re probably going to write a piece about this” before she skated off to chase her daughter around the rink. I was offended by the suggestion that I’m some kind…

“I’m ready for a new cat,” my 97-year-old Mom tells me. “Dixie,” my mother’s last cat, had died two months earlier. Back when the beloved cat was still alive, mom had said it was her last. But she’d said the same thing about Dixie’s predecessor, “Curry” and before that, “Lucky.” …

They say to put on your own oxygen mask first. When the hell am I supposed to do that? — We were waiting for X-rays. When I got home from work, our 19-year-old cat was hobbling on three legs, gingerly hoisting a back foot at a pathetic angle. I’d rushed her to the emergency vet. She howled. …