It didn’t take long to get Layla fed and dressed, and around 9:30am we were on our way to see Mama Vermillion. We had a lot to share with her—the hornet attack, Layla’s “intercession” with Sam, the lucid dream. I couldn’t wait to hear Mama’s take on all this.

It was a bright and beautiful morning in New Orleans, one of those rare days when there was a crispness in the air, just the right combination of coolness along with soft humid breezes that drift up from the Gulf of Mexico and spill into the city off the banks of the Mississippi.

“Wow, what a beautiful day!” Maggie said.

“I was just thinking the same thing!” I said as I steered Layla in her stroller through the now crowded and busy sidewalks of the French Quarter.

We only lived six blocks from Mama’s store, so even with pushing a stroller we were there by 10am.

Approaching the old storefront I felt a kind of relief and then realized how important Mama was becoming to me. Without her guidance and understanding, I, we, would be truly lost.