Hurricane Helene blew in family from the Upstate of South Carolina and Asheville, North Carolina, making things a little hectic around here. It somehow feels off-kilter to have mountain family evacuate to the Lowcountry during a hurricane, but we were honored to offer shelter from the storm. My front yard, newly cleared of Helene’s debris, was suddenly full of cars, trucks, wild boys, toys, bikes, and one motorized Spiderman motorcycle leaning against the porch railing.
Amid the chaos, fear, and unknowns, there was a four-year-old’s birthday party to organize. We all pulled together to create what turned out to be his best birthday yet. As part of my “Mimi” tradition, I send Halloween costumes, a process that involves browsing Amazon options starting in the summer, followed by long FaceTime discussions over the plethora of possibilities. This year, he received his favorite superhero, Captain America, along with a pirate set. Because he’s four and doesn’t follow costume rules, my little Captain Hook America ran through the house, leaping from furniture, brandishing a pirate sword in one hand and a light-up shield in the other.
After mounds of presents were opened, cake devoured, and birthday songs sung, a friend dropped off a small gift bag. Inside was a purple plastic magic wand. He stared at it; eyes wide with awe. “It’s real?” he whispered. “Yep,” she replied. And that became the MVP of all gifts. He carried the wand with him everywhere, turning me into various wild animals, the pool into a sea of Sprite, and his brother into random dinosaurs.
As we watched grim news filtering in from Asheville and western Carolina, tracking the slow progress of power restoration and tree removal in Spartanburg, I found myself waving his wand as well. If only.
Beaufort extended her own small mercies. The Monkey’s Uncle store on Bay Street offered free toys to the boys when the oldest mentioned he was a Helene evacuee. Neighbors brought over Legos and food, and some friends offered their unscathed condo near the devastated mountains. My heart swelled with gratitude as one act of generosity after another flowed our way.
Amid this outpouring of kindness, I reflected on how small moments of joy can cut through the heaviness of difficult times. One neighbor stopped by to share a story. She had been having a tough morning—distressing news, physical pain, and various troubles clouding her day. “As I was passing your house, I saw your little grandson peeing on a tree, and suddenly, I was laughing so hard that everything felt lighter!”
I’m glad she found humor and comfort in something that, under normal circumstances, might have left me mortified. As a mother of girls, this whole boy thing is both wondrous and a bit unnerving. A toddler peeing on a bush isn’t something I’m accustomed to. And yet, it’s not my responsibility, I think, as my daughter ushers him inside for yet another bathroom rules review.
I find great joy in watching these little guys jump from curbs, brandish plastic swords, and shoot Nerf guns at imaginary bad guys. I wasn’t the one who brought a marble racetrack into the equation, but it was a blast trying and failing to build a tower as elaborate as my seven-year-old grandson’s. He turned it into a competition, recruiting other family members as judges. His, with all its connectors and mazes, was an engineering feat. Mine? The marble got stuck on the first slope. I tried to explain that I’m more of a wordsmith than an architect, but he wasn’t buying it. “You just need to accept your loss,” he said. A sentence packed with the wisdom of the ages.
Despite all the effort involved in hosting a house full of people, I can’t take all the credit. The MVP of the week goes to the Asheville crew’s dog, aptly named Happy. Poor Happy was dragged, carried, dropped, and tricked with treats all week, yet he endured it with grace and admirable fortitude. Of course, the chance to scavenge stray crackers or fallen cheese probably helped keep him near the whirlwind. The magic wand was even used to try to turn him into the Hulk, but this little rescue dog knows that his strength comes from love and loyalty, not some potential superpower.
Everyone has left now, and the house is quiet. I think I’ve found all the marbles and even uncovered a few plastic Easter eggs with seriously compromised candy still inside. My daughter and son-in-law plan to bring their baby into the world in their beloved Asheville, come hell or high water.
I’m so thankful for the concern, help, and love from family and friends, both near and far. Or, as the pirate might say, “Ahoy matey, all hands on deck!”
