But then I realize, Ima wants me, she wants to know what’s really going on. Just like I wanted to know her story, the good, the bad, the ugly, the glorious.

“Shira, is that you?”

I head for the kitchen. Gone are the days of trying to escape to my room and getting annoyed at Bubby’s questions; I’m just so grateful to be back, to have her back to herself.

Well, not exactly back to herself. She still can’t get around easily, the aunts are always in and out helping, and there’s a physiotherapist who comes to the house every day. But she’s here, and smiling, and sitting in the kitchen with Zeidy, sipping tea… and strangely, it feels like home.

Almost like home, at least.

Zeidy’s reading a newspaper when I come in; he folds it up quickly and slips it onto his lap, out of sight. Well, that’s eager. I guess he wants to give me his full attention.

“There’s muffins on the side, Ashira. Chana sent them in with supper. We’ll eat later, so if you’re hungry, take a muffin or two. I think there are some cookies also, from yesterday.”

Yay, Aunt Chana’s cooking. She’s such a creative cook. Today’s menu looks like Hawaiian chicken over rice, with an exotic-looking fresh salad on the side. And cappuccino muffins. Heaven.

I sit down next to Bubby to schmooze while I eat. She wants to hear about school, about play practice. We’re a week in and it just gets more boring each time, but of course, I don’t tell her that.

“Yeah, it’s great. I didn’t have to go today — they’re doing some other scenes.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to watch you perform,” Bubby says.