From Deep Space to Easter Sunday: A Weekend Review
There is something cosmically moving about the way we humans attempt to bridge the gap between our small lives and the infinite. This past Saturday, the family sat in the dark for two and a half hours to watch Project Hail Mary. We were initially a bit apprehensive about the PG-13 rating and the complex themes for the kids, but Lolo and Wyatt were remarkable. They sat through the science and the silence, and being joined by Lee, Haley, and their son Luke transformed the theater into a small, shared outpost of community.
Coming so soon after watching the real-world Artemis II launch with the kids, the movie felt less like fiction and more like a continuation of a collective dream. I find myself hoping that Lolo and Wyatt feel that same sense of "complex wonder" when they look at the stars, a curiosity about our place among them that is both humbling and exhilarating. We eventually migrated from the cosmic scale of the film to the human scale of Umi Japanese Restaurant. It’s an old haunt for us, the kind of place where the staff knows your name, which is a small but meaningful mercy in a world that often feels indifferent. While the kids dove into their favorites, Lizzie and Ms. Carole shared a bottle of sake, and we talked about the beautiful, messy world as it exists outside the restaurant’s windows.
Saturday night was dedicated to the high-stakes art of "Easter Bunny Prep." We sat around with hard-boiled eggs and wax pencils, engaging in a bit of kitchen table alchemy. There is a magic in the wax-resist method, the act of scribbling invisible messages and silly faces, knowing they will remain a secret until the very moment they are submerged in a cup of vibrant dye. It is only then that the art is revealed, a colorful epiphany rising from the vinegar-scented depths. It’s a wonderful, messy exercise in being creative, reminding us that sometimes the most important things are there even when we can’t see them yet.
Sunday morning arrived with the kind of 6:00 AM urgency only children can muster. The house became a theater of discovery, with every found egg held aloft like a trophy. While the day was filled with surprises, the undeniable star for Lolo was the Magic Mixies Pixlings from Aunt Elle. Watching her unbox a creature that felt pulled from the pages of a fantasy novel was a reminder of the power of a well-timed gift.
But the day wasn't just contained in boxes. In the backyard, the morning air was punctuated by the hum of Wyatt’s drone. There is something resonant about watching a ten-year-old pilot navigate the sky above his own lawn with a precision that honestly put my own spatial awareness to shame. Between flights, Wyatt and I took a moment for a more terrestrial project: building and hanging bird feeders. It was a grounding counterweight to the digital world, a literal "down-to-earth" moment of stewardship.
We eventually retreated inside for the cinematic comfort of Pirates of the Caribbean and a dinner by Ms. Carole that made the house smell like home in the most fundamental way. Lamb, chicken, and my favorite "womp biscuits". I am currently exhausted, but it is the "best way" tired, the kind that comes from being fully present for a weekend of flight and magic, of cosmic movies and my family that makes the universe feel a little more lovely.
