Celine
My hands shook as I pulled Maggie’s hair back into a messy ponytail. By the time I’d wound the hair tie around it three times, pieces were already trying to escape. It was windier than I’d anticipated, the chilly air snapping at our coats and scarves. It was that deceptive kind of cold that went far deeper than the weather in fall ever should.
Chloe had sent Gus in search of hot chocolate, and the rest of us watched as massive pumpkin boats of every size and shape were lowered into the water and tied to a long line strung across the river like a festive clothesline. Some were painted like pirate ships, others sporting googly eyes and costumes.
The water was slow and shallow, but I was still doing what I did best. Worrying. Going through mental safety checks, watching and calculating and studying Julian’s body language.
He was calm.
Alarmingly calm.
It didn’t add up. If history were to be trusted, this experience would conclude with complete sensory overload. It was cold and windy and noisy, with far too many visual distractions and an occasional strange smell. Not to mention the risk of getting wet. Normally this kind of thing would send us home overstimulated and exhausted before it even really got started.
Instead of struggling, my son was studying the other pumpkin boats and giving me a confident thumbs-up every few minutes.
I wanted to trust it. But I couldn’t help but wait for him to melt down. Trying new things was virtually impossible for him. Novel experiences terrified him and never turned out well.
But we were here. And he was holding up better than I was.
Crowds lined the riverbank, and the people prepared with cowbells and homemade signs. The family race was first, kids of all ages with their parents, looking equal parts thrilled and unhinged.
“Remind me why this is a thing?” Chloe asked, shifting a sleepy Simone on her hip.
“It’s only one hundred yards long.” I pointed downriver to the inflatable finish line that had been set up. “And the fire department is here, ready to help if any of the boats capsize.”
“This seems like a lot of work for bragging rights.”
She wasn’t wrong. The engineering that went into hollowing out the pumpkin had gone beyond my comprehension. And the time and energy and heavy machineryrequired to make the pumpkins seaworthy for a few minutes seemed a little absurd.
“I think it’s the kind of thing that only works if you don’t think too hard about it,” Ellie said in her bored twelve-going-on-thirty-five drawl.
I snorted.
As ridiculous as all of this was, I couldn’t help but be excited. For Julian and for Josh, who despite the early hour and the cold looked happy to be here.
The man with us this morning was far removed from the grump we all knew. He kept fist bumping Julian and squatting down to chat. Gesturing in ways that made me think they were talking strategy.
As they lined up to begin, I panicked and darted for Julian so I could check his life jacket one more time.
“Everything okay, bud?”
He nodded, the movement making his helmet slip low on his forehead.
Josh, who’d donned waders, squatted next to him. “Remember how this is going to go?”
“First you get in. Then Jasper will pick me up and put me inside.” Julian said. “Then we hold onto the rope and float until it’s time to start.” He went through the checklist they’d reviewed.
“And then we paddle as fast as we can,” Josh added. “You sure you’re okay with that?”
“Yes. We’re gonna win.”
“We might win. We might not. But I want to make sure you feel comfortable and have fun. You can just watch if you want.”
My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. I wantedto jump in, overexplain, and tell Julian he should hold my hand and just watch from the sidelines.
But I held myself back, giving him this moment. If he ended up melting down, I was prepared for it.
Julian turned slowly, his little face hard. “I made this boat with you, and I’m gonna paddle it with you. We’re gonna win and then I’m gonna take the trophy to school to show everyone.”
