And speaking of camp… I had shopping to do.

The camp packing list was making me dizzy. So many essentials, numbers, suggestions, details… I needed a mom who had done this before to go through it and tell me what was actually needed. And maybe more importantly, what the camp hadn’t included but the boys definitely needed to bring.

I dialed Tzippy, Shua’s mother.

“Sure, I’ll walk you through it all,” she said, laughing. “I remember when we sent our oldest, Baruch, to camp for the first time… I totally overdid it! He went with three duffels plus a huge set of stacking drawers and a box of nosh… I think half the stuff got left behind.”

I chuckled. Like mother, like son. Shua was also super bubbly like that. He and Ezzy made a great study in contrasts — but it worked.

“And it’s cute the boys are going together!” Tzippy really sounded excited. “I’m really happy about that, knowing Shua will have someone normal to hang out with. Y’know how Ezzy keeps him grounded.”

“Yeah, and Ezzy is so excited about going with Shua. It makes all the difference to have a friend in a new place.”

T

he Packing List (by now, it definitely deserved capitalization) was finally complete, the orders placed, and we were up to food shopping — definite progress.

We were in the car, heading for the grocery (again) when Ezzy said suddenly, “It’s a little crazy, no?”

“What?”

He shrugged, eyes on the road. “Going to camp. You know. It’s so not my type.”

“I think you’ll be great. And have an awesome time. You love trips, swimming, all the activities and stuff….”

“Yeah, I know, but there’s also, like, a ton of kids I don’t know. And partying all night. And everyone crowded on top of each other….”

“Right.” I switched lanes, keeping quiet to let him talk.

“Hey, don’t worry Ma, I’m not changing my mind. I want to do this, it’ll be good. It’s just, you know, big.” He thought for a moment. “At least Shua’s going. We’ll do it together.”

He really wanted to do this, I realized proudly. He was going out his comfort zone, and it would hopefully be a really positive — and fun — experience.

We pulled into the parking lot. “I think you’ll do great,” I said. “And once we finish buying out this store, it’ll be even better.”

T

he next day, Ezzy headed over to Shua’s. School was out, we were done shopping, and there were still a few days to go until camp, so I assumed the boys would be hanging out for a while.

But Ezzy showed up just over an hour later.

“Who’s there — Ezzy? That you?” I called when I heard the door slam.

There was no response.

“Ezz?”

I heard a bedroom door bang shut. Um, what?

Ezzy was quiet, but he wasn’t surly. And he rarely did the slamming-door, no-response thing either.

I abandoned the marinade I was putting together, and went to investigate.

“Ezzy, are you in here?”

He grunted something.

“Can I come in?”

“I’m fine,” he called back, tightly, making my alarm bells go off even louder.

“What’s going on? Can I come in?”

Ezzy heaved a loud sigh and opened the door. His face was stony. What had happened?

“Ezzy, what happened? Something happened with Shua? You guys argued or something?” Oh no, the last thing we needed, right before camp. But also, what on earth? The two of them never fought.

Ezzy looked at me, eyes wide and hollow.

“Shua’s not coming to camp. He backed out at the last minute. And I don’t know a single other kid there.”

SO

apparently, this was a surprise for Shua, too.

A nice surprise: His grandparents had offered to take him to Europe for some bar mitzvah, a trip, whatever.

It sounded lovely and I would be happy for him — if it weren’t for the fact that he was literally abandoning my child, at the last moment, when Ezzy really needed him.

“I don’t understand how his parents are okay with him doing that!” I hissed into the phone to my sister. “We spoke two weeks ago! She was all into how good it was that they were going together… and now this? Just because her kid is Mr. Sociable who would make friends anywhere? Maybe he wouldn’t care if a friend bailed on him, but Ezzy was relying on him! He doesn’t know anyone else in the camp!”

“It is a little sudden. And not very fair,” Zeesy agreed.

“I’m going to call Tzippy,” I decided. “I just don’t get it — what made her think this was okay?”

“Don’t call her,” a voice said behind me.

I whirled around. “Ezzy! I didn’t know you were here.”

He shrugged. “Don’t call his mother, okay? It’s mortifying. It’s not like I need Shua. I’m a big boy, I can handle camp. I told him it was fine, anyway.”

It wasn’t fine. But I wasn’t going to embarrass Ezzy. Besides, it sounded like it was a done deal anyway.

I still couldn’t believe that kid was doing it to him.

A

nd then he was off. Thirteen-year-old boys aren’t major phone talkers and Ezzy was no exception. I heard from him once a week, twice if I was lucky.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Ezzy. Did he have any friends? Was his counselor one of those rah-rah guys who only paid attention to the machers, or a guy who would actually look out for him? Should I call the camp mother to check in, or would that be even more embarrassing for him than me calling Tzippy about Shua letting Ezzy down?

Speaking with Ezzy didn’t do much to make me feel better. He sounded tired, no… weary.

“Yeah, it’s okay, Ma. Food’s okay. Thanks for the nosh. Yeah, the guys liked the chips and stuff.” His voice was flat.

“Any fun trips? Activities?”

I could almost picture the shrug. “Swimming’s okay. Everything’s fine.”

I’d heard him sounding more fine, but whatever.

“And what about your bunk? You… know anyone yet?” I asked, trying to feel things out a bit more.

“I know their names, if that helps.”

“Well… that sounds like a start.”

“Yup. I’m fine, Ma. Don’t worry about me.”

But when he hung up, I worried.

Ezzy was never a kid who warmed to a new social scene easily. That was the whole reason he’d only applied to camp knowing he had a good friend joining. Spending the summer alone in a crowd must be awful for him — just when he was finally gaining the confidence to spread his wings.

If I could tell Tzippy one thing it would be: How could you allow your son to let his best friend down — and ruin his entire summer?

Tzippy

Music was blaring, someone was screeching, my girls were baking up a storm, and Donny was starting the grill. Oh, and I was hunting for the missing labels, without which I absolutely could not send my kids’ clothing off to camp.

Summer magic!

My mother called right in the middle of the happy party.

“Hey, Ma,” I sang out, putting her on speaker momentarily to hear the fun.

“Hi, Tzip. Hi, kids.”

“What’s up?” I tucked the phone under my ear. “How are you handling the heat?”

“We’re good, we’re good,” my mother waved the question away. “Listen, I have something to ask you. Is it a good time?”

A good time? That was so un-Ma-like.

“It’s always a good time to talk to you, Ma.”

“Oh, I know that,” she said, laughing. “I just have a question for you.”

“Oh?” I started moving the stuff on the dining room, dividing it into piles. Papers, books, garbage. Random half-empty package of chips. One, two… seven plastic cups. Didn’t I just do this just a couple hours ago?

“It’s about the bar mitzvah. Benji’s,” Ma said, and I tuned back in.

“Right, of course! You’re leaving in about two weeks, no? Exciting.”

My sister Sara lived in England, and she would be making her third bar mitzvah this summer. My parents were flying in, of course but the timing — and the cost — made me apologetically bow out. It didn’t work for most of the family either. Our third sister was due any day, and two brothers couldn’t take off from work. My brother in Israel, who would be flying in on his own for the night of the seudah, would be the only sibling representative.

“So I was talking to Sara, and she was telling me that it’s really hard for Benji. His brothers had a lot more family flying in for their bar mitzvahs, and he’s been a little down about it.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry for him. It’s hard. I wish we could come.” It was always hard, this balance, when to go all out to be there for family. Sara had made a wedding right after Pesach. It had been a major event, the first grandchild to get married, and most of us had flown in for it. There was no way we could do it again… but I did feel for Benji.

“So I know this is last minute, but I had an idea,” Ma said. She was bubbling over with excitement, and I couldn’t help but smile. That was classic, my mother was always coming up with something new, something exciting, something good.

“Your Shua and Esther’s Motti are the ones closest to Benji’s age. Tatty and I want to offer the two of them to fly in with us, be at the bar mitzvah, and then — wait, this is the best part!” Ma said, stemming the flow of words I’d been about to say. “I’m going to take all three boys on a special trip to the Alps, as a joint bar mitzvah present from me and Tatty. What do you think?”

“Ma, oh my!” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to think.

Or rather, what to think first.

On the one hand, this was amazing.

The perfect solution for Benji. Fun for our boys. An opportunity for all three — cousins who rarely got to see each other — to spend time with each other and with my parents, who were probably the world’s greatest grandparents and the best trip chaperones I could wish for.

But it was also pretty sudden. And Shua was lined up to go to camp soon. What would the camp say if we pulled him out? And… a pit formed in my stomach. There was one other problem.

Shua’s best friend. Ezzy.

L

ater that evening, Donny and I managed to grab a quiet moment with Shua on his own.

“So, Shua, excited for camp?” Donny asked.

“Pumped,” Shua said with a laugh. “I mean, what’s not to love about camp?”

“Agree,” Donny said. “Just… Bubby called today. And she and Zeidy had an idea. We’re curious what you think of it.”

“Shua,” I said. “How would you like to do something different in the end this summer?”

His eyes opened wide. “Different? Like what?”

I smiled. “Bubby and Zeidy have offered to fly you and Motti to England for Benji’s bar mitzvah. And then they want to take the three of you on vacation to the Alps.”

His eyes nearly fell out of his head. “For real? That’s crazy. I mean, like, in a good way! But… whoa.” He shook his head. “I mean, of course I’d wanna do this. I’d be crazy not to! Motti’s awesome and it would be fun to spend time with Benji, too. I just — whoa. So I wouldn’t go to camp… and then…” his face fell. “What about Ezzy, though? We’ve been planning to go together. You know him, Ma, he would hate to go alone… I don’t think I can do this to him.”

“I know. I thought about that, too,” I said. “Listen, you’d only be flying a week into camp. I could ask the director if you could join the first and last week. I’ll explain the situation. Let’s see what they say.”

T

he camp director was understanding but regretful. “It’s fine if you need to pull out, we have a waiting list taller than the Empire State building,” the director said candidly. “And I realize this was a last-minute opportunity that just came up. But we can’t have a kid join for a week here and a week there — that’s not how it works.”

“I understand that,” I said. “Let me speak to my son.”

When I explained the situation to Shua, he was conflicted. “I want to go with Bubby and Zeidy,” he said. “But I dunno… I can’t do it to Ezzy. But wait… you said Benji was really upset that no one’s coming to his bar mitzvah. So maybe family comes first?”

We let him think it through himself. Personally, I was conflicted, too. I wanted him to go with my parents. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. When does a teen actually want to spend so much quality time with his grandparents? When would he and his cousins have this opportunity again? It would mean so much to my sister and her son. And besides all that, Shua loved to travel. Seeing Europe would be a dream come true.

But there was still Ezzy. His best friend. He didn’t want to let him down, and I felt terrible about that, too.

“How about you talk to him? Sound him out, explain your dilemma, see what he says?” I suggested.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Shua made a face; asking a teenage boy to “talk things out” may have been almost as daunting as asking him to make conversation in a foreign language. But hey, life skills and all that.

“He’s coming over soon. I’ll talk to him.” On his way out the door, he paused and looked back. “I really want to go to Europe,” he said. “I can go to camp any year… this is once in a lifetime.”

T

he boys were out back, playing basketball. I kept the kitchen window open. It wasn’t like I was trying to listen. It was just… well, okay, maybe I was trying to listen.

“… excited for camp?” Ezzy was saying. The ball thudded against the wall.

“Well. Yeah. I mean, actually….”

“We bought a ton of nosh, I had you in mind with the gushers,” Ezzy said. Someone was bouncing the ball now, rhythmically, thud and thud and thud and—

“Um. Actually. Ezz?” Shua sounded weird. Ezzy must have heard it, too. The ball stopped bouncing. The silence was loud.

“So… here’s the thing. Something came up. Suddenly. Like, a day or two ago. And it could be… it looks like I won’t be going to camp, in the end.”

Ezzy dropped the ball. “Okay, you’re joking.” I heard the utter disbelief.

I peeked out the window. Shua looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. “Um, Ezz, I’m not joking. I wish I was. I mean, I don’t really wish because — wait, let me tell you, okay?”

Ezzy murmured something I couldn’t make out.

“It’s my grandparents. And my cousin…” Shua’s voice dipped as well, and I could just hear random words: England, Europe, Alps. “It’s not that I don’t want to go to camp with you. I was so excited! It’s just that… this is special. Something I’ll never get to do again….” Shua trailed off, uncertainly.

It was very, very quiet.

Then Ezzy said, in a very different tone, “Wow, Shu. So you’re getting to travel the world this summer.”

“Yeah.” Shua sounded awkward. “I — you know — sorry about this. I didn’t mean to leave you without a friend to hang out with in camp. Just — my grandmother just surprised us. And I don’t really want to give it up….”

“That’s great,” Ezzy said. His tone sounded surer. “I mean, I’m happy for you. Of course you can’t give this up. I would do the same thing. Totally.”

W

ell. I guess that went as well as we could’ve hoped for.

“How was?” I asked Shua, when Ezzy had gone home. He didn’t have to know that I’d heard almost every word.

“Fine. He was fine,” Shua said. “I guess that means Europe, here I come.”

“Really? He didn’t seem… nervous about going to camp on his own?” Ezzy was a lot more reserved than Shua. I hoped he would be okay.

“He said he’d do the same thing in my place.”

It was true. We couldn’t ask for Shua to give this up. And if Ezzy was reacting like that — it was great. Maybe he wasn’t even as shy and insecure as we thought.

“Ezzy’s awesome. They’ll love him in camp,” Shua said.

“Right,” I agreed. “He’s a good friend.”

IT

seemed like no time at all until we saw Shua off in the airport, with hugs and waves and enough luggage for half a year. He and Motti were bouncing with excitement, my mother was beaming with pride, and Ta looked on with a broad smile as we exchanged goodbyes.

“The boys will be fine, don’t worry,” he told me and Esther.

“I know they will be.” But I still felt a little tearful seeing Shua off. It wasn’t the same as going to camp, somehow.

“All right, time to head to security!” Ta said, waving like a head counselor.

“Bye Ma!” Shua said, and then the four of them disappeared into the depths of the airport.

“They’re going to have a great time,” I said to Esther.

“I know they will,” she said.

And then we both dabbed at our eyes again.

T

hey did.

Every phone call I got from my mother was full of stories and laughter, Shua hopping on and off the phone to let me know he was having a blast, that everything was siiiiick, that they’d eaten out again and that tomorrow they were going to the London Dungeons and he would make sure to send lots of pictures.

My mother faithfully sent constant updates, pics of the three cousins with my parents, of various sights in England, and of the breathtaking vistas of the Alps.

“He’s having a once-in-a-lifetime trip,” I said to Donny. “I’m so happy we went for this.”

And then I met Ahuva Stern.

We bumped into each other in Trader Joe’s; her cart was neatly organized with an assortment of spices and some snacks; mine was loaded with a ton of random ingredients, some from my list, mostly not. I had to laugh at the contrast.

“Hi,” I waved as we neared. “How are you? How’s Ezzy in camp?” I wanted to say more, to apologize maybe, although it wasn’t exactly our fault per se. To say I’d been thinking of Ezzy, hoped he was okay.

But Ahuva was giving me this really cold, un-Ahuva-like look, and I just closed my mouth fast. Whoa.

“Ezzy is not having the greatest time, actually,” she said, the words as cold as chipped ice.

It was an obvious accusation.

“I’m — sorry to hear,” I managed. “That’s… really hard. We didn’t mean….”

But Ahuva wasn’t even listening. She’d already turned her cart and stalked off.

If I could tell Ahuva one thing it would be: I’m sorry that the change of plans affected your son — but this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Honestly, what would you have done in my place?

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1069)