Dear Roberto and Ebba...

I have a difficult time making promises unless I am certain I will keep them. And because I seldom know what the future holds, those promises are few and far between. My better half—who thinks I suffer from commitment anxiety, is amazed that I even said yes all those years ago. 

Our daughter, Gisella, age two, in the Venezuelan Andes 

From the moment she uttered her first word, our eldest daughter begged for a dog. Because it felt safely distant, we promised her one when she turned five—long before another baby was even a glimmer on our horizon.

By the time the twins’ fifth birthday arrived, their bold little sister was crawling through our three-story townhouse without a care in the world, her brother and sister teasing, and me panting behind them. A new pup was no longer practical, so that fifth birthday quietly became six. Yet as the years passed, the very thought of a four-legged companion weaving through stairwells alongside three children filled me with such anxiety that I defaulted to a weak “someday.” I couldn’t bear to break another promise.

Then my husband intervened.

Logical, charming, and endlessly persuasive—the same man who had led teams to victory countless times—he reminded me that, someday, with no end in sight, was like chasing the Energizer Bunny. Our daughter didn’t need perfection; she needed certainty. A month, three months, a year—it didn’t matter, as long as there was a date.

He was right. We all covet glimpses of the gifts life may hold, and if we’re asked to wait, there’s no salve like a “best by” date.

So what did I do? I bought her a puppy.

The very next day!

Yes, it was chaos. Yes, I spent months chasing three kids and a dog through every corner of our lives. And no—I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

Cut to a few years later.

Our favorite Swedes, Roberto and Ebba, announced—much to our dismay—that they were moving to North Carolina. When Ebba asked when we might come visit, that familiar paralysis struck: my heart already missed them, but my head spun with calendars, flights, commitments, destinations. Of course I wanted to see them, but the thought of pinning down a distant date felt like entering a no-fly zone.

At their farewell party a few weeks later, Ebba, ever perceptive, teased that she hoped everyone would come visit—except me. Wink-wink. And I thought: why couldn’t I just say “sure, anytime” like everyone else? Because I’m not everyone else. And that’s okay too.

So, dearest Ebba and Roberto, our family bids yours farewell and wishes you lycka till. But not before letting you know: Bernardo and I already have tickets booked. We’ll see you before Halloween. Are you ready?!

Yes, age has a way of seeing us through life with a calmer slant, each decade allowing us to just "be"—no explanations or justifications. Embrace your quirks and choices, but most of all, embrace those you love.

Puss Puss beautiful family, see you soon!