Why were we sisters still stuck in a dilapidated bungalow?

Perry: You’ve enjoyed the separate, nicer place for years. Isn’t it time to give others a turn?

Chezky: The current accommodations have always worked for all of us. Why stir up the status quo now?

Chezky

There’s something so comforting and familiar about a family tradition. Like Shabbos Chanukah at my parents-in-law, and fighting over which night to celebrate my brother Yossi’s Ushpizin, and visiting Great-Aunt Yittel once a year.

And like summer vacation at my parents’ bungalow. Make that bungalows; shortly after I got married, they’d purchased a second one, right next door the ancient, sprawling one that once belonged to my grandparents.

It’s a mazel they bought the neighbors’ one too, when it went up for sale. If not for that, I don’t think Faigy would agree to keep spending our summers there.

“Honestly,” she told me once. “I don’t know how your family manages in that old place. Is there a single window that opens and closes? And the bathroom, it’s missing half the tiles, it’s literally dangerous for kids to walk around in there.”

I shrugged. “We’ve been there every summer since I was a kid. We’re used to it, I guess.”

Faigy wrinkled her nose. “Well, let’s just say I’m glad your parents bought the small one in time for our first summer there. I can’t imagine what I would’ve done otherwise.”

The small bungalow really was a blessing for us. Faigy worked through the summer, she needed Wi-Fi, and the bigger house had very spotty cell phone service and no router. Our place was small — just two bedrooms and one kitchen-living room-dining room — but it was recently redone, the furniture was old but in decent condition, and best of all, as far as Faigy was concerned, was the privacy.

“I just couldn’t live with everyone on top of each other, sharing a bathroom with everyone’s kids, you know,” I heard her tell her sister Henny. Faigy’s family was like that; we Brims were a different breed, it seemed.

The way it worked out, though, we get the best of both worlds. The kids get the company, we spend time with the family, next door for Shabbos meals, supper, hanging out together. And then at the end of the day, we go next door to our own place. It’s not a mansion by any stretch of the imagination; we’re talking five kids squished in one room and the baby in with us, but it works, we spend the summer with the family, and Ma’s forever kvelling about her “summer homes” and having all the eineklach together, like she owns some sort of villa in one of those fancy summer estates.

Summer home, ha. Home to spiders and mice and, on one memorable occasion, a skunk. There’s no end of family lore around the Big House, as we like to call it, and the good times make it almost fun to prop up the beds with stacks of books, again, or tape garbage bags over gaps in the windows that don’t close.

But it wasn’t a big surprise that Faigy preferred the small one, with its central A/C and whitewashed walls.

Faigy was out doing “country shopping” when Ma called, which was a good thing, I guess. The conversation began as usual, Hi, how are you, how are the kids, looking forward to having the family all together, what day are you coming in the end, etc, etc.

“We’re excited too,” I said. “The kids keep talking about the big paddling pool and climbing that old tree behind the house.”

“Mm,” Ma said, her voice a little distracted. The sound muffled a moment while she covered the mouthpiece, talking to someone else. Ta?

“Listen, Chezky, I wanted to ask you,” Ma came back on the line, her voice too casual. “Would you mind, you and Faigy, to stay with us in the Big House this year? A couple of the others want to stay in the small bungalow, you know, have a turn.”

She gave a small laugh.

I wasn’t laughing, though. My sisters, Perry and Elky, were both married with a couple of little ones, but they’d never had a problem with staying in the family bungalow before. I was the oldest, our family was the largest, and Faigy worked at home. Besides, we had a keviyus there. What was the sudden change all about?