Dear Dad,

I was going to make a bucket list but decided that was super cliché. There are, however, things I want to do, and I’m aware that I might not have all the time in the world. I want a doggy. I want to eat dessert as often as possible, which I already do, honestly. Um . . . other stuff? The truth is, my life is so happy, it feels wrong to wish for more experiences or possessions or pies (well . . . maybe the pies are okay).

But life is normal now. IPF is a part of my life. I’m not smiting myself with ashes.

You know how so many women say the best day of their life was their wedding day? Not me. The best days (note the plural) are the regular days, Daddy. The days where it’s sunny and dry and you can smell the donuts from Knead. When Sebastian FaceTimes me without Jen knowing and we have our private chats, or he puts the phone down and I just listen to him playing. When Bruce compliments me on something at work, not because he feels sorry for me, because he’s not like that, but because I did good work. Sitting up in the garden, spying on the people across the way and making up stories about them.

I’m happy, Dad. I’m really okay, and I’m so happy. Don’t worry about me, okay? I love you.

Lauren

Pebbles, their newly acquired Australian shepherd mutt, could dance, walk herself by holding the end of the leash in her mouth, sing along to the radio, sneeze on command and catch a Frisbee in midair.

She also ate toilet paper, was terrified of pigeons, consistently shat underneath Josh’s desk and spontaneously peed when she heard the word ride.

“Now I see why she was put up for adoption,” Josh said, cleaning up her sixth pile of poop of the weekend. “Don’t tell my mother she crapped inside. Our whole house will be bleached.” Stephanie was on the obsessive side of clean, one of her many attributes. Who else had a mother-in-law who’d clean your kitchen for fun?

Poop aside, life was good. The foliage had been especially bright this year, and they’d spent the day at the Waterman Street dog park, throwing balls and sticks for half a dozen canines as Pebbles tried in vain to herd them. Now, Lauren was on the couch, using her oxygen because it had been a vigorous day. Pebbles was equally tired, curled up at Lauren’s side, head on her lap. The silkiest ears in the universe. Sure, Pebbles had chewed up the clicker last night, and she was a bed hog, but these ears.

“You doing okay?” Josh asked once the trash was emptied and he’d scoured his hands.

“Yep. A little tired.”

He looked at her, squinting as if he didn’t believe her.