A Meaningful Quebec Family Reunion on Lake Baldwin - Aug 2025

Everyone came.

We drove up with Ben and Bailey. It was her first time meeting most of Serge’s family. She stayed close at first. She listened. She remembered names. After a while, people stopped introducing her.

The park was on Lake Baldwin. Tables under trees. Grass worn down where people had stood before. Water close enough that someone was always wet or drying off. Music played near the food. French carried across the tables. No one paused for it.

Guy was at the pit early. He stayed there most of the day. He checked the pig, turned it, carved it, handed plates across without looking up much. People ate standing. Then they ate again.

Children ran between tables. Lise set up races. Sack races. Relays. Tug-of-war. The rules changed each time. No one argued about it for long.

Kayaks went out and came back. People swam. They lay in the grass. Conversations stopped and started again later without explanation. Cousins who don’t see each other often sat close, talking fast, then fell quiet.

Bailey was handed a plate. Then another. A chair was pulled out beside someone she hadn’t met yet. By mid-afternoon, she moved easily between groups.

Late in the day, the light shifted. People slowed down. Someone packed up a cooler. Someone else stayed by the water.

That night we drove back to the cabin. A shipping container set into the woods, owned by an old friend of Serge’s. It was quiet there. Trees close. We sat and talked for a while and then didn’t.

In the morning we took the long way home. Vermont roads. Small towns. Churches. Stores with hand-painted signs. We stopped when we felt like it.

At the border, we waited our turn.

When we crossed back, the road stayed the same.