It was Labor Day weekend, 2004. My 3 month old son is to be baptized, but the threat of Hurricane Frances has closed the airports, highways, and even church. All of our family members who are to fly in have had their flights canceled. Our consolation prize was a week with our dear friend who serves as Son’s godfather.
We watched The Godfather (all three parts). We ate many hard-boiled eggs, and some lentil soup. We had church in our apartment, just us three adults and the baby. We read Into Thin Air. We drew drawings of my son as King Neptune, baptized by hurricane; of him as a newborn mountain climber summitting Everest, without the use of supplemental oxygen. We discovered The Midwich Cuckoos and their mysterious mind-control. We let him drive away at the end of the week with our hearts full.