We named our son Hollis. That was decided months ago, after my granddaddy. But we went back and forth for a while about his middle name. Beau wanted Verne. I said we couldn’t do that to another little boy.
Then Verna told us something that settled it.
That night, the night Hollis was born, was supposed to be her very last shift. She’d put in her notice two weeks before. Thirty-one years at the same Waffle House, and she was retiring that Friday to move down to Mobile to be near her grandbabies. She’d almost called out sick that Tuesday because of the ice.
“I said to myself, Verna, you’ve never missed a shift in your life, don’t start now,” she told us. “And I guess the Lord had one more thing for me to do before I hung up my apron.”
So his name is Hollis Grace Oakes. Grace for her middle name, and because I don’t know what else you’d call a night like that.
