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I’ve completed another card blitz. I’m not sure I will do the Valentine, St. Patrick, and Easter series in the year 2022. You never know though – life is strange, and I have a tendency to find inspiration in all the oddest places. I would like to pull off Halloween and Thanksgiving cards in 2022.

One thing I have failed to do since I started cranking out greetings is to write my Christmas letter. So tonight, before the ball drops, I will share my year in review letter for the first time in 16 years. Let me start at the beginning of a year that ended up being a little stranger than 2020.

Lifetouch and its parent company, Shutterfly, let go of almost 800 employees nationwide. Our little Salisbury office was notified in late January and 4 of the 6 office staff worked their last day on February 19. I was one of them. You don’t realize how much you love your job until it doesn’t exist anymore. That was the start of the card blitz – after all, I still had free Shutterfly cards to make. Thankfully, COVID restrictions had lightened so this recently unemployed photographer was able to go visiting family in South Carolina with her recently retired boyfriend. We had a great visit in Charleston with his daughter and future son-in-law. Then we got some quality time in with my parents in Bamberg.

Not long after I returned, my old boss reached out to me. She was leaving Lifetouch and thought I would be a good fit to return as a photography supervisor. I said yes and after a stressful interview process, I returned to Lifetouch. This new position is less desk and more photos, so in an ironic twist, I was able to return into a role better suited to me. It was very busy in September and October, and there were moments that I doubted I had what it takes to hire, train, and help new photographers. Sometime in early November, I found myself at my computer and thought “yeah, I can do this.” When I started with Lifetouch in 2015, the exact same thought crossed my mind. As I was setting up my underclass unit for a makeup day at Georgetown Elementary, I realized that I could do it.

Now for the sad news. We lost some amazing people this year. At the Full Moon Salon, we lost Bob and Margaret Ann in the Spring. MA, as we called her, was so effervescent and radiated joy. Bob was one of my favorite customers. Lets pour the coffee for him, extra cream, and raise the mimosa for her, with just a splash.

In the Fall, Zach’s grandmother, Gerry left us and Jimmy’s close friend Rob followed. Zach had already moved to Baltimore and was able to be with the whole Klinglesmith family. In my many conversations with Jimmy, it was comforting to know that we still share a bond that transcends the mere biological connection of our son. It will serve us well as he takes inventory of Rob’s kayaks and puts together the R2D2 legos in honor of Gerry. I know when February rolls around, I will be heartbroken to not receive Gerry and Dan’s late Christmas letter. The world is a little less bright without her.

And now the GOOD NEWS – Welcome to the world Madison Rochelle Foy. Born on August 6, 2021 and was the correct gender, according to her big brother Ray Keith, who called it before she was born. Gary met the grandchildren for the first time early December when we traveled to Long Beach for the Baptism. There is so much joy in a new human joining us in such a hard year of lose.

So you can see – there is no easy way to put all of this in a card. I joined Rhonda on her 75th 5K today. That is a pretty cool way to wrap up our year. Both of us were a little reflective with a dash of sad, and an upset stomach from too many cookies. We both had such hopes for this year and it started off so rocky for her when she was in a major car accident on January 16, 2021. Of course, New Year’s Eve is my anniversary. Every year it rolls around and I cuss at Keith for ruining a perfectly good holiday. This year would have been 14 years. Compounding the sadness of today is knowing that I am his age when he died, that his new grandchildren will never meet him, and over the course of 10 years, he is still deeply missed by everyone.

So Rhonda and I are rounding mile 2.5 (3 for her since her fitbit has her going faster than my apple watch) and I declare that we will not stay in our funk. We will leave funkytown starting tomorrow. She plays Funkytown on her phone and we dance our way back to her house.

As the last of 2021 rolls on, I am still addressing cards, opening a good chocolate wine, cooking up some HelloFresh for Gary and I and signing off with this message to all of you:

With each card I address, I send a well wish to you, a thank you, and a smile. For each one of you mean so much to me. With each name I write, I see you in my mind, as you were when I met you and as you are now. It makes my heart sing. All of you are worth it. My wish to all of us is that we can cross over to 2022, still hopeful and never let that go. If it gets to bad, you can always join me in a sing along of Funkytown . . . . Sing it!

Sometimes, there are people who come into our lives that burn so brightly, they can not stay with us. They burn fast and blue as we bask in their fierce heat until they flicker out as quickly as they came into our lives. Nine years ago, this was the eve of Keith’s flame drawing on that last bit of air. Yesterday, your beautiful Allison did the same. I’m not sure if it is the anniversary of Keith’s passing, the madness of this world, or just simply the knowledge of what you will face that has my heart aching as if it will explode from my chest, like it did that first night I spent alone in our bed the day he died. I know you are far more private than me and I am unsure as I type this as to whether I will make things worse for you or give you some sliver of peace. I do know that life goes by in the blink of an eye, and I have grown weary of writing eulogies of late. It is time to write to the living.

Zach and I had gone to a engagement shoot in Fells Point, in 2008, I think – time is a slippery thing. You were living on the sailboat at the time. I do remember that. After photographing the couple, we decided that sushi was in order. We went overboard with our order and decided to call in reinforcements. He called and you came over and saved us from our glutenous eyes and full bellies. It was on this day, you told us about someone special – that you might be sort of could be seriously dating. You were nervous about introducing us to her – how would she handle your ex and son? I couldn’t resist the urge to point out that we had been divorced longer than we had been married and Zach was all but grown up. What stuck with me the most that day was how good you looked, how happy you seemed. Happier than I had seen you in such a long time. This was the first time I knew of Allison.

Every time I saw the two of you together, I could see the magic. The US of you both. I could see all that she gave you, that your young selfish first wife never could. Allison brought out the best in you. You had a way of making her shine even brighter than she already did. I loved her for how deeply she loved you.

There was something special that happened as I got to know her. Allison had super powers. She had this knack of making me feel like I was a friend from way back. It was so easy to talk to her, any time, about any thing. I felt safe with her. She would get that devilish grin and twinkle in her eye when she turned the topic of conversation to you and me, before the US. It was as if she won the lottery or found gold, and wanted to show it off – and in so many ways, she had. We learned from our mistakes the first time around so we could get it right the second time.

My second time, my Keith – brace yourself for what is to come – the pain will never fully leave you. It lightens with time, yes – but there will always be something missing. I was in the funeral home making final arrangements for him. They let me spend time with his body and I cried, truly cried, for the first time since his death. I was still crying as I got in my car. Then you called. I remember telling you how much I loved you for letting me go. If you had never let me go, he would have never been in my life.

Sometimes, there are people who come into our lives that burn so brightly, they can not stay with us. You and I share the honor of standing closer to the flames than most people ever get. I would gladly do it again for the privilege of being part of Keith’s life. I will keep the light burning for Allison. They both had more than enough love for us to last the rest of our days.

There is a silence in the air, hovering over an empty house in Parsonsburg. A hush lingers over the lake that rolls gently away from its backyard. The corn hole boards are tucked away and the kayaks are hiding in a shed. This time last year, I was putting the finishing touches on my pasta salad, sealing it up in my giant green bowl. This time last year, I was preparing for the ultimate fireworks show at Bill’s house. Thursday of last year, Gary, David and I went over for the annual tent raising ceremony. A ceremony we particiapted in with a tall glass of fun with a splash of obligation. It was our tiny contribution to a massive undertaking that occurred the first Saturday after the 4TH of July without fail. always followed with a tailgate party where the cold beer and random conversations flowed easily. Even during this preshow game gathering, Bill was not capable of sitting still. He had already spent weeks powerwashing the house, cleaning and scrubbing every nock and cranny, pulling out the chairs and tables, shopping for tiki lamps, and stocking up on ice for the drinks.

Shortly after meeting Gary, he introduced me to his friend Bill. He joined us on one of our first motorcycle rides to Chincoteague. Bill was late. Something I would learn about Bill over time – he was always late, except when it came to the fireworks. He was always on time for that. We made it as far as the Royal Farms on Route 13 before we ran out of time, turned around and headed home. As we got back on the bikes, I managed to put my helmet on backwards. Bill caught me in the act and busted out laughing.

That same year, I was invited to my first fireworks show at Bill’s house. Back then, he hadn’t built the dock yet. So he loaded up a little wooden boat with the fireworks and set them off on the lake. Danger was his middle name. He learned quickly and built a dock to light the fireworks safely from land. Then there was the year that one fell over and almost lite up the whole dock, so I guess we were all lucky that he walked away burn free. There was a feast of pot luck treats as well as chicken that he grilled all morning long. The following year, I had gotten to know Bill well enough to ask if I could put Keith’s ashes in one of the rockets. Keith’s love of pyrotechnics rivaled Bill’s, although he never put on a show quite like this one. He got to go out with a bang on that night though.

That’s Keith in that Firework. Don’t worry, Cow didn’t go with him.

Each and every year we showed up. Each and every year, we were not disappointed. A couple of years ago, he let me launch my kayak, the USS Pink Panther, on her maiden voyage. It was always amazing to see the show. Be a part of it all. Bill shined everytime. Even that year when the cop showed up and shut us down.

We’ve all heard the phrase, it sucks getting older. I find that it is more than the aches and paines, the bad eyes, the need for more naps that sucks. Its also that fact that we have to stand witness to losing those we love. Having to live long enough to say goodbye to mothers, fathers, and best friends. There will be no fireworks this Saturday. There will be a deafening silence over the lake that witnessed so much laughter and love, chicken and pot luck. Bill – you better be putting on one hell of a show where ever you are. And my wish for you is that tomorrow, right around 4:00 PM and ending at 10:00 PM, it rains its ass off here, so you won’t feel bad about missing the party.

Ahhhh – 4TH of July. Summer break has officially arrived. Every year, my job shuts down everything for one week. This week. A glorious week, and it isn’t even over. But I digress

– Dear Teacher, this is what I did on my summer break:

On the eve of summer break, Friday, June 28th to be precise, Gary, Zach, Rhonda and David all celebrated my promotion at work with a visit to the Koto steak house. Unbeknowst to me, Rhonda had never been to a Hibachi grill before. So we made the chef throw all the food at her. He also threw it at us. Gary and David were the only ones to successfully capture the grilled treats hands free. Proving, once again, that they were indeed related. The rest of the table was busy picking zucchini off the floor. The chairs were so low, I felt like a kid at the big people’s table. Zach was really the only one tall enough to see over the grill. Rhonda almost got a booster seat from the stack lined up along the wall. I contemplated getting one for a fleeting moment, until I visualized my butt getting stuck in it. I’m not sure they had enough butter and oil behind the grill to get me back out. After the onion volcano and the spinning egg trick, the chef pulled out a giant squirt bottle. He presented it to Gary with just one word – “sake?”. Gary said “sure.” and what followed was surely a carnival side show. Our chef squirted the sake across the grill and straight into Gary’s open mouth. I kept waiting for one of them to tap out, but both kept going for a while. When it was over, Gary swallowed, shook his head, blinked his eyes, and said “that really was sake!”

I was missing my Easton friends – Katie, Jay, their son Landon, Ginny, and Agent J. It had been 8 years since I last stepped foot in a Japanese steak house. We’d meet up at In Japan frequently, at Keith’s insistence. There was the birthday cake incident – for Brandon’s birthday, we brought a cake. Our waitress dropped it, and rushed out to the Acme to replace it. The cake department was closed so she had to buy a tub of that gel writing icing to write happy birthday on it. We razed her endlessly and thankfully, we were the kind of regulars that knew she had a sense of humor about it.

The next morning, I hid all the piles of stuff. Cramming shoes into closets, hanging up winter coats that took up residency on the backs of the dining room chairs, and throwing out coupons I was saving that had expired in May. I packed up pepsi, cool ranch Doritos, a few rice crispy treats and made my way to the Salisbury zoo to meet Karen and her daughters. It was hot. Yet I didn’t care because I knew how much Piper, Karen’s magical special Autistic daughter, loved going to the zoo. Not only would I get to see the bison, bears, and flamingos in their natural habitat, I’d also be able to visit with my best friend while seeing Piper in a place she was comfortable being in. The bonus of the day was getting to know more about Bronwyn. I never had an opportunity to spend as much time with her as I did that day. There is something so stayed about her, so quiet and strong. She is growing up to be a beautiful smart lady, just like her mom.

Piper decided she was tired of the zoo. “Hot” and “Sweaty” and “Bath” were her exact words. We made our way back to their car for the Pepsi and Cool Ranch Doritos. These were the items on my Friday grocery list after asking Karen what Piper liked to eat. Oh – and spaghetti! Piper agreed to let her mom and I visit a little longer when we asked her if she would like to have spaghetti at my house. She said “Yes”. So we made our way back to the house, where we dined on spanakopita, left over hibachi rice and vegetables from the night before, and one can of Chef Boyardee spaghetti and meatballs. Gary saw the can and reminisced about eating tasty Chef Boyardee for dinner many a night growing up. He did get into the other cans I had gotten a couple of nights later, and his childhood memories were tarnished a bit, when he realized they weren’t that tasty. Karen and I couldn’t get enough hugs in. Our visits are always that way. Maybe because we can’t get enough time with each other, so we soak up every minute we do have. After the last hug, there’s that moment when we tell each other “I needed this”.

Sunday found Gary and I in his sister’s pool. Ed and Terry were full of stories and fun, as always. Gary shared our story from Koto, while their dog, Baxter sipped from our beers. “Good Dog.” We talked about some of the upcoming shows at the Freeman Stage. Ed recommended a restaurant, Pit and Pub, and I knew I had to try it out as soon as he mentioned collard greens. I have a weakness for collard greens with tons of vinegar. We pigged out and still carried home a big box of brisket.

I was missing Marsha, who traveled all the way to the Freeman stage to watch Rick Springfield with Rhonda and I. We haven’t done our annual Rick Springfield concert. Mostly because he isn’t playing locally. Marsha is amazing to watch at those concerts – sings and dances to every song played. She’s a better fan than I. That’s what I love the most about her.

Tuesday rolled around to find Rhonda and I on the beach at Assateague. It was a long overdue chill out for us. I had just wrapped up the busy season at work and this was, after all, day 4 of my summer break. Just like my visit with Karen, I needed this too. Unlike Karen, she lives right around the corner from me. Crazy how day to day life rolls uncontrollably along and we find ourselves going days, weeks and months without our human connections. The very ones that keep us sane. The ones that remind us that its only life after all, and there should be more laughter, more smiles, more joy – the magical friendship kind.

After a morning of burying Cow up to his hooves in the sand and stalking a crab that crawled all over the little bovine friend; and catching up on all of our who, where, when and hows of the past few months, we made our way to the outlets. Disclaimer – I love shopping, Rhonda – well – not so much. She was a trooper though. I dragged her into every clothing store on a mission to find shorts. When I wasn’t successful in that mission, I shifted gears and went for shoe shopping. Once I had purchased my new shoes, I dragged her into Bath and Body works and made her smell everything. “What ya think of this one.” I’d ask. “It smells more like watermelon then lemon.” she said. “I agree!” and then I’d drag her off to the next store.

I was missing Kitson. She is another friend that is always willing to entertain my random adventures. Well, except for that time at the Ocho Ria falls, she was pretty much fed up with me then. But that’s a story for another day. Kitson has otherwise been another trooper. She helped me track down every flat penny machine I could find at Disney Springs but unlike Rhonda and shopping, I might have gotten her hooked on flat pennies.

And this is the portion of the story where I tell on myself. Day 1 – I applied sunscreen diligently before going to the zoo (which by the way was shady). Day 2 – I applied sunscreen diligently before going to Ed and Terry’s and hopping in their pool (which by the way was only an hour swim). Day 4 – an entire morning spent in direct sunlight with white sand and sparkly water reflecting happy rays all over me and what do I do? Yes, I did apply sunscreen, but apparently not diligently enough. By the time I got home, I had managed to burn my armpits, shins and big toe on both feet. That’s it. Everything else survived. You would think that a 50 year old woman would remember armpits shins and toes (this is starting to sound like a song). Gary was voted the best boyfriend ever after applying the aloe.

Which brings me to Day 5. Mammogram day. I was grateful for the fact that the armpit burn was far enough away from the breast as it got squished. That would have taken the discomfort of the process to a whole new level. I met a nervous lady in the waiting room after I returned from the squish. She said “that didn’t take long”. Sometimes I don’t have a filter – without knowing her circumstances, I blurted out “that’s cause they only had to do one.” Thank goodness she took that as an opening to ask questions, which I gladly answered. She had traveled from Southern Maryland and we compared travel time. We chatted away about this and that and mostly breast cancer before I was called back the second time to consult with the radiologist. All was good. No change and no cancer. I said goodbye to my new waiting room friend and made my way to check out. As soon as I had wrapped up there, waiting room friend had come out as well. All was good. No change and no cancer. We hugged each other – 2 strangers with something in common – and I never got her name. As I got on the elevator, there was a passenger already on board. A beautiful blonde women in a beautiful pink dress. “You got sun, that’s so great! I’m always so pale and jealous of those that get in the sun” she said to me. I told her “a little too much sun”. Thankfully, she couldn’t see the bright pink patches on my shins.

On the ride home, I was missing all my friends. Those that I visited on my summer break and those that I could only visit with in mind. Something about my conversation with waiting room friend or something in the comment made by elevator lady. I was feeling a little proud, maybe downright cocky, about how I put a smile on their faces. Maybe even gave them a little giggle to think on after the drive home, the dinner, the reclining on the couch at the end of a long day. I was missing the friends even more as I sat in 4th of July traffic on the bay bridge. I had this crystal clear image of me struggling through my trials, yet always landing on my feet. Remembering that my friends have struggled themselves, with some of the same trials I have faced, and some very different ones. We have lost husbands, mothers, cousins, sisters, and countless friends. We have struggled to keep our children healthy and happy. We have balanced budgets and bought the cheap toilet paper and gone without to keep the roof over our heads. When it’s all said and done, I would have never landed on my feet if they had not been there to catch me.

I still have 4 days of my summer break to go. But that will be a story for another day.

…remains in motion. I have been told many times recently that I am that object. I can’t totally be blamed for all the motion. We are in our busy season at Lifetouch. There are underclass students, classroom groups, sporting events, and homecomings that need to be captured, immortalized for generations to come.

Some of my motion I learned from Keith. We called him Tigger because he was always in motion, almost to the point of being a blur. I was never a morning person but that didn’t stop him from bounding into the bedroom way earlier than I was prepared for, setting a steaming hot cup of coffee on the night stand, inches from my face. It was a strategic maneuver for sure. I couldn’t resist and was sitting up as he asked me when I was going to get out of bed. As we would start the day, I’d lounge around the house while he whirl winded about. And then he got sick. Like a relay race, I had no choice but to grab the baton from him. Be the strong anchor for the final stretch. As he ceased to be in motion, I became the one to remain in motion. So in some strange way, I inherited my tendency to not stand still from him.

But what I’m really here to touch on – what has weighed heavy on me, maybe even slowing down my trajectory, is all the objects in my life that are no longer in motion.

Last night, Gary’s mom, Momma Shirley, breathed her last breath. I pray that this is the end cap of a long series of people who are no longer in motion in 2017. It was peaceful and calm. Very similar to my Mom-Mom’s passing in March. She was our first one to leave us this year. One matriarch in the Spring and one in the Fall.

And those that died in between – here I will give each of them pause. Their condensed eulogy. First, Dave (AKA Fruit) a drummer supreme, and a total nut, and a musical genius, lost his battle to cancer in April. He was 53. There was Asa, a name from my far distant youth, who was probably the most creative force of nature I had ever witnessed. I still have cards he made and carvings he did. He was in his 60’s. Then Kim, with her kilowatt smile and heart as big as the sky, was in a hit and run accident on Mothers Day. She was taken from us the next day. She was 48. Harry was in a fatal motorcycle accident in August. He practically lived on his bike so it seemed fitting that he would die riding. I always marveled at his under spoken nature and sweet awkward shyness. He had just retired from the army and was enjoying life to the fullest. He was 48. In September, Eileen lost her battle with Cancer. Her spirit was as strong as the moose gifts she would hand out for all the special occasions. In the words of her brother “the world is down one good person – everyone do your part to pick up the slack.” She was in her 50’s. Aunt Donna was in a car accident that killed her instantly one week later. She struggled after Uncle Mike died. She’s back in his arms and safe once more. And in between Eileen and Donna, Great Uncle Don left us. Between Aunt Donna and Momma Shirley, it was Great Uncle Dayton’s turn to say goodbye.

Meanwhile, in the land of the living, a few of my photography assignments took me back to my old High School – Colonel Richardson. On the first visit I ran across Cynthia. We graduated together and found paths crossing again when I worked for the law firm in Easton. She has always looked just like she did way back in the day. I’m a little jealous but still enjoy talking with her. Her voice is always so quiet and soothing. On my return to the school, I ran across Tommy. He used to hang out with me and my brother when we lived on the farm in Choptank. His father rented our shop and while he was hard at work, Tommy would play with Lance. Now he’s all grown up and the band teacher at Colonel. He reminded me of the time Lance squished his hand with a rock. We were kinda, ok – maybe a lot – mean to him. But he turned out pretty cool. Today, I’m in St. Michaels. Melissa got her picture taken and we did a selfie with Cow to send to Katie. Her kids are growing up so fast. So is Katie’s son, Landon. Then Tom stopped by. Hands down, he was my favorite teacher on the planet. I credit him with starting me on the path to theater. My first loved career. They are all in motion. Just like me. And it is pure joy to intersect with them from time to time. Reminding me that we are all still in motion, bouncing off briefly from each other. Gaining a little energy from the impact to keep us going. Those that have left will have to wait a little longer for us. It is not our time.

It was Mom-Mom’s time. It was Momma Shirley’s time. Mom-Mom got everything ready for those that followed her. Momma Shirley has just arrived to catch them all up on the land of the living. These two mothers never met. But I was always aware of two similarities they had. Both could hear 20 conversations at once from the opposite end of the house. Both could talk endlessly about everything under the sun. There could not be a better beginning or end to this year of loss than those two mothers. We will eternally have the two greatest listeners keeping an ear out for us. Two of the greatest talkers to visit our dreams with stories of those no longer in motion, and of course, to occasionally give us our dose of motherly grief. Two matriarchs of so much more than their own families – eternally cheering us on as we remain in motion. For however long that may be.