Teeny-tiny reminders of Hurricane Francine have caught my attention daily since she blew through Louisiana. 

Reminders in the form of poppy seeds. 

I’ve coached myself to smile when I see them and think of Walker Percy’s hurricane theory — that not only do times of crises provide a setting for everyday people to do heroic feats, they are also a time for the rest of us to be freed from the everyday sameness of life.

Francine was like that for me. It was the first Louisiana hurricane I’ve weathered since my kids grew up, flew the coop and left the state. Turns out that hurricanes without children around are very different from hurricanes with children around, likely regardless of the children’s ages. Additionally, for Francine, my husband happened to be out of town. 

Not wanting to be alone in a house without a generator, I gladly accepted the offer of friends to join them. Not only did they have a generator, they had made it to the store in time to stock up and were planning to cook throughout the day. 

I gathered up ingredients to make my favorite cookies — an oatmeal, pecan and poppy seed concoction that is generally delicious and always provides a hard-to-understand level of comfort for me. By noon on the day of the storm, I had thrown all the ingredients in a mesh Frida Kahlo bag, grabbed my suitcase and raincoat and drove to be with my friends.

They had another hurricane guest whom I had never met. She was busy on a series of virtual calls working with people across the country whose lives had not been disrupted in the least by an approaching storm in the Gulf.

The moment I walked in my friends’ home, I could smell the red beans and rice. The rain began in earnest shortly after I arrived. All of us were busy for the afternoon.

The rain fell.

The muted meteorologists on the ever-playing television told and retold us about the potential track of the storm and surge along the shores. 

The red beans simmered — and the earthy aroma filled the house. 

By late afternoon, my friends and I were feeling like the storm was likely going to pass us by, and we loosened up a bit. Their friend was still working in another part of the house. 

Prepare yourself. This next sentence is not one you will likely anticipate. 

I had mentioned to my friends several times that I am a leg wrestling champion, and I was pretty sure I could take them both down even though they were 20 years younger than me. They laughed. I explained I was serious. 

It was on — at least with one of them. My friend’s husband refused to leg wrestle. 

As I knew I would, I walloped her. No woman had ever beaten me in leg wrestling.

Work was done. I made my oatmeal, pecan and poppy seed cookies. The red beans and rice were ready. Their friend I didn’t know joined us at the dinner table. I learned that pickled banana peppers take red beans and rice to the next level. 

We enjoyed the cookies for dessert and sat at the table for a long time talking. We talked about big things and little things. We talked about our highlights of the day and what we all think happens after we die. We had time. The day was different. The storm was in motion. 

The new friend asked what all the commotion earlier had been. We began to discuss leg wrestling — and the evening’s tournament began to take shape. First, to demonstrate, I beat my old friend again. Then, the new friend took her place on the carpet — and I beat her. 

She said, “Oh, now I understand how to do it. Let’s try again.”

And we did.

And she beat me! She has no idea the magnitude of her accomplishment, and I have to face that my decades-long streak and bragging rights are done. We could not stop laughing.

While our hearts continue to go out to those affected by the storm, it was a day and night that my friends, both old and new, and I needed. It was a break from the sameness of life. It was a time to eat good food, work, play and laugh with each other. 

Walker Percy was right.

So where do the poppy seeds come into play? I make my oatmeal pecan poppy seed cookies often enough that I buy poppy seeds in bulk. I took the whole zippered container of poppy seeds with me on the day of Francine’s impact. I brought it home the next day, in the same mesh Frida Kahlo bag. The problem was: I didn’t zipper the poppy seed bag completely. I now have poppy seeds in my car. In my driveway. On my steps. In my living room. On our big dining table. In the kitchen. On the ironing board. I find poppy seeds in new places every day. 

And when I do, I smile and think of the warmth and wonder of friends and a storm that missed us.