A brown-skinned mother and daughter, relentless rain, and the small stage of a car interior are all the elements needed to find quiet drama in an ordinary day. Francie, her mom, and her baby sister brave the highway for the drive home from Grandma’s, while it “rained on endless lines of cars and buses, oil tankers and trucks, the windshield wipers in despair.” Glimpses of those they pass (a fisherman, some ducks, two men on the shoulder post fender-bender) alternate with small moments inside their vehicle, including a shared in-car picnic at a wayside pull off. Details of family life emerge during the trip, like learning that Francie’s father, who is white, has been away for three weeks, working at sea, and that her baby sister has yet to be born. A moment of inspiration at a service station stop for gas yields the new baby’s name: Grace. By the time they arrive home, the setting sun makes an appearance, shining on a doorstep reunion with Dad. (Ages 3-6)

Waiting out a storm by the highway inspires a name for an unborn baby sister in a tender, exquisitely observed tale from the incomparable Bob Graham.

The rain is pouring down in buckets, and Francie and her mom are on their way home from Grandma’s. As the little red car pulls into a picnic area to wait out the storm, the windows fog up, and Francie spells out Dad, Mom, and Francie with her finger. But the back window is waiting for another name, that of Francie’s soon-to-arrive baby sister. What should they call her? Francie and her mother ponder this as they return to the road. Later, when they stop to fill up with gas, who will notice one mother lost in thought and a small girl dancing? Once again, as only he can, Bob Graham elevates a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment into a sublime tale full of nuance and heart.