There are chickens living in my backyard who couldn’t care less that I have a bachelor’s degree and there are four dogs in my house and they do not give a flip about my book – even though Bonnie is on the back cover. My son doesn’t have a hoot about my LinkedIn. They don’t care that I spend months worrying about what happens next school year or wondering whether I’ll ever find another career. Each morning, these dogs and chickens greet me with the same question:
Ten years since 2016. And that realization tells me one thing, we need to talk about nine years ago for a hot minute.
Nine years ago, an acquaintance gave me an expiration date I did not appreciate. He told me with arrogance, I might add, that I would have one year to talk about my coma. After that, I’d need to drop it.
First came Houdini, he was a short-haired dapple dachshund with white, gray, black, and brown patches with eyes that seemed to know things. When he was a puppy the black dots on his nose formed a Mickey Mouse head and he was obviously special. He was loyal, protective, and so smart it was astounding. Houdini could sit, lay down, stand on his hind legs, he could speak, shake his paw, left and right, he could twirl, and my favorite was he could roll over, all by my commands. He thrived on structure and routine and kept me on that as well. Houdini even rang a bell to tell us he had to go potty outside. He was clever and I was proud of his sharp wit. He loved me and was politely indifferent to just about everyone else. He was mine; from college chaos to the changes that come with motherhood, he was the constant companion I didn’t always realize I needed. For 14 years, he walked beside me through every season of life, from my early twenties until even my son was ten years old. When it was time to say goodbye, Houdini taught me what mercy truly meant. Losing him left a space in my heart that stayed empty for years. There was a gap in my side where he always nestled, it ached with emptiness, I had extra room in my chair. I needed that chair space to be taken up with his warm little body.
We answer to many names at times, nicknames, last names, pet names, names we love, and names we hate. I answer to names like Amanda, Sue, Mom, and Panda, but my favorite thing to answer to, besides “mom” of course, is Aunt ‘Manda. I love being an auntie. I think my favorite times lately have been to make memories with the little ones in our families. To take my nephews to an indoor water park in the dead of winter, felt epic at the time, all for the memories. Wave pools, arcade games, water slides and french fries, oh my. The laughter was worth it.
Now they say that Disney is the most magical place on earth. I’ve been a few times; Disney does not disappoint, but is it magical when you walk in alone? Is it a magical Main Street while solo? Is it still fun when watching out for numero uno? The answer surprised me. My sister had been planning a trip to Disney for over a year and I always told her, if I was able to tag on to her trip, somehow, I would. The memories of her kids’ faces brings me so much joy, it’s unexpectedly wonderful.
So I started poking around the internet. Started texting and inquiring about all pieces of this travel puzzle. I started investigating scenarios. Hotels. Flights. With Enzo and Tony. Without Tony. Without Enzo. What were the options? Airport parking. Do I have a suitcase after the great basement sewage flood of ‘24. What would be my food options per day? Which days were possible. And then, would this even work with Courtney’s schedule with her family.
