My mom doesn’t feel up to getting dressed, and my dad often has to miss out on family events as a result. He asks me to convince her to get dressed so they can go out together. It saddens me that they’re missing out on things and we don’t know how much time we have left with them.

Before December is even over, I get excited about hanging out with January. I start making lists well before the turn of the calendar, to be ready when she comes. I plan out all the fun things we’re going to do together: exercise, self-care, healthy eating, budgeting, family time, career goals.

Unfortunately, many newly enacted laws in places like Texas, Florida and Missouri misinterpret that advice and take it to unhealthy extremes.

“What was the cause of the Civil War?” she was asked.

And rather than giving the answer that any ten-year-old American could give, she opted instead for nuance.

“Probably four or five years,” I said. “I refill it in case I get thirsty through the night.”

But for me, it’s cookies.

Long after the other plants in our garden faded and settled in for a winter nap, the rosebush on the southeast side of our house continued to grow and stretch toward our bedroom window so that when we awoke and pulled up the shades, the palest pink, delicate petals rested serenely with faces open wide, patiently waiting for us to begin our morning.

The first was the memory of a powerful passage from a novel by Elie Wiesel, in which a man is waiting to execute a political prisoner who has been sentenced to die at sunset. He says you know night has arrived when you’re gazing out a window in the evening and you suddenly realize that you’re looking at your reflection in the darkening glass instead of the landscape outside.