With windshield wipers waging a losing battle against the driving rain, I kept wondering why I hadn’t left for Louisiana the night before.
My theory was it would be easier to navigate across Houston traffic on a calm Saturday morning instead of a frantic Friday afternoon, but I hadn’t counted on a powerful rain system to come roaring along Interstate 10.
Still, I didn’t begrudge the trip as I was going to spend Mother’s Day with my mom in Baton Rouge. Driving across Houston, I found myself marveling at the city’s downtown skyscrapers, so majestic against that gray sky.
Once I left the crowded freeways, the fields between Houston and the state line were calming in spite of the miserable weather. The open rice fields along the interstate were filled with water, and hundreds of birds were swooping and diving, hoping to find breakfast.
Driving over the Atchafalaya Basin is one of my favorite parts of a trip to Baton Rouge because the area is truly unique.
The Basin is home to thousands of varieties of wildlife, from graceful herons to stealthy alligators. I saw dozens of boats out on the waters, and I thought about my dad and uncles and all the afternoons they spent in the Basin.
Those memories kept me company until I arrived at my mom’s, happy to be out of the rain. While in Baton Rouge, I was lucky to attend my great nephew’s graduation party, and familiar faces and people I’d never met before quickly blended together.
As an added bonus, Brennan’s family served up hot crawfish all afternoon. I can’t remember the last time I had fresh, boiled crawfish, and those little mudbugs were even more delicious than I’d remembered.
It wasn’t long before I had a nice mountain of empty crawfish shells in front of me, and I diligently worked to dig out the tender white meat from the claws.
Everybody has their own method for extracting crawfish meat from the shell, and I relied on my Cajun uncles’ brilliant suggestion to crack the shell and then use the sharp end of the claw to dig the meat out.
On the way back to Texas, I stopped at Pat’s in Henderson for some fried alligator for my daughter-in-law. Driving down the bayou road to Pat’s is a true slice of Louisiana as one passes quaint houses, people riding horses along the levee and boats and trailers in front yards.
Because it was Mother’s Day, the front hostess told me I couldn’t get a dinner to go, but the reservations clerk leaned over and told me to check in the bar. I went in and explained the order was for my daughter in law who’s expecting this winter, and the waitress looked at me for a long minute.
“Cher, don’t you worry. I’ll fix her right up,” she said. Ten minutes later, she returned with a heaping helping of fried alligator bits and wished me a safe trip.
When I stopped at Novrazsky’s in Orange, Texas for a late lunch, the server threw in a free drink, wishing me a happy Mother’s Day. The sandwich was stuffed with fresh meats and vegetables and I silently thanked the staff for going the extra mile for me.
No matter what state one lives in, there are beautiful sights to see – the majestic mountains in Colorado, the mysterious swamps of Louisiana, the wide open spaces of Texas.
While those are memorable, the people one meets while there and along the way are what makes a state unforgettable. I encountered wonderfully kind people on my journey, and for that, this was a Mother’s Day I’ll long remember.
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.