The Friday night dusk had already settled as the six o’clock hour came and went. We should have left our house for the beach hours ago. A five-hour drive late at night does not for a happy toddler make. Finally, the back door opened, and my husband rushed in.

“I’m sorry, honey. I got tied up at work. Are you guys ready? I just need to change.” My fourteen-month-old daughter wrapped herself around his leg, giddy.
It was after nine when we left, Sophie already in her pajamas. As we drove, I felt impatient and just wanted to be at the beach already. We had originally planned to make a stop en route to pay a brief visit to my mom and dad. But now, it was already so late.