By December 2025. The month contains everything this year: the championship afterglow, the recruiting season for next fall, the end-of-year staff meetings where we look at what worked and what needs building. I live in this month with particular attention because Hector has had more hard days than easy ones since October and I want to be present for what the next months bring.
We drove to Las Cruces for Christmas, as we always do when we can. Hector was thinner than I've ever seen him. He moves from the bedroom to the chair in the living room and sometimes to the porch. He doesn't do the stairs to the backyard anymore. The territory of his life has contracted, but inside the territory he remains himself: opinionated, warm, capable of holding his grandchildren, capable of holding the conversation, capable of saying the right sentence at the right moment.
Christmas Eve tamales. Mom made them with me in the kitchen while Hector rested. She was quiet in a way I've learned to give space to — she's carrying more than she says, which is her lifelong pattern. I cooked beside her and let the silence be what it was. The twins came in at intervals. Sofia helped with folding. We made twelve dozen. Enough.
Christmas morning: Hector came out at seven-fifteen. I'd been up since five. When he came into the living room I was sitting in the armchair reading and I looked up and there he was, in his robe, moving carefully, and he looked at me and said, "Merry Christmas, my son." I don't think I've ever heard him say it that way before. My son. I told him Merry Christmas. He found his chair. The twins came running. The morning became itself.
After the tamales were wrapped and the kitchen was quiet again, Mom pulled out the pecans—because in Las Cruces there are always pecans, and Christmas without snowball cookies isn’t really Christmas. We made them the same way we always have, while Hector rested in the next room, and when the twins found the first tray cooling on the counter they each took one without asking, which is exactly right. These are the cookies I want to make every year as long as we can all be in that kitchen together.
Pecan Snowball Cookies
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 36 cookies
Ingredients
- 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
- 1/2 cup powdered sugar, plus 1 1/2 cups more for rolling
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1 1/2 cups finely chopped pecans
Instructions
- Preheat oven. Heat your oven to 375°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
- Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and 1/2 cup powdered sugar together with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes. Mix in the vanilla extract.
- Add dry ingredients. Reduce mixer speed to low. Gradually add the flour and salt, mixing just until combined. Fold in the chopped pecans with a spatula or wooden spoon until evenly distributed throughout the dough.
- Shape cookies. Scoop about 1 tablespoon of dough and roll it between your palms into a smooth ball. Place balls about 1 inch apart on the prepared baking sheets.
- Bake. Bake for 12–15 minutes, until the bottoms are just lightly golden and the tops look set but not browned. Do not overbake—they should remain pale.
- First roll in sugar. Let cookies cool on the pan for 5 minutes—just long enough to handle. While still warm, gently roll each cookie in powdered sugar to coat completely. Place on a wire rack.
- Second roll in sugar. Once cookies are fully cooled, roll them in powdered sugar a second time for a thick, snowy coating. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to one week.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 118 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 10g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 18mg