Ma comes in from her nap, looking happily rested. She settles onto the couch between us.

“Who wants to just order in sushi instead of going out?”

She stops talking suddenly. “Are you two… whispering?”

I laugh, Babby waves her hand. “Not at all, Zelda, we just didn’t want to wake you.”

Ma still looks suspicious. “Where are Goldie and Effie?”

“Out for a walk,” I say. I feel strange. Almost like I’ve traveled somewhere far in a very short amount of time. And maybe I have? Is Babby my potential future? Have I glimpsed it? Will I too, one day, be cool, calm, and collected, able to keep a room relaxed just by being in it? One day, will I be surrounded by my children and grandchildren, all looking up to me? And maybe have one bratty granddaughter who won’t want me to join the fun? Yikes.

I turn to Ma. “We were just discussing how I, uh, remind Babby of herself.”

A slow smile spreads across Ma’s face, like the sun rising through a Florida dawn.

“I was waiting for you to notice,” she says, and pats me on the cheek. “You lucky girl,” she adds softly.

Whew. I lean on the balcony railing and look out toward the water. It’s been quite a trip. Besides acquiring a slightly painful sunburn, I also feel like I’ve changed. Is that super dramatic? ’Cuz, hi, everyone knows real change can’t happen in the span of a five-day trip to Florida. But that growth I couldn’t find before the trip, I think I’m starting to really grasp it. And I guess the thing I was missing before was that I thought growth was a done deal. Like either I grew from my experiences or I didn’t.

I inhale a deep salty breath of air and let it out slowly.

The truth is, the only way to change from my challenges is bit by bit, day by day. And then maybe, one day, I’ll become a person I can be proud of. A person like my babby.

“Ending vacation should be illegal,” I mutter as we snatch our bags from the carousel. Goldie laughs tiredly and shifts Effie onto her other hip; her stroller is still nowhere to be seen.

“I second the motion,” she says. We wait around, hoping her stroller will magically appear, and when it doesn’t, she reluctantly hands Effie over to Ma and heads off to find someone to ask.

Babby sits on the seat of her walker like it’s a throne, and winks at me. I giggle.

Ma wipes Effie’s nose and smiles at us both. “Wasn’t that fabulous?”

I think about the past few days; sandy walks and late brunches and suntanning on the beach, iced coffee and sushi and schmoozing the nights away with Babby….

“That,” I say, standing on tiptoe to kiss Ma’s cheek, “is an understatement.”

I wrap myself in my coziest oversized sweatshirt, scoop my wet hair into a bun, and head down the stairs for some very much needed dinner.

The kitchen is crowded and there’s the distinct aroma of… “Is that fish?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.

Aharon nods a sunburned face, and Naftoli, who seems to have gotten stitches on the back of his hand, drums a beat on the table. “It sure is, Belka dear. While you were living it up in the lap of luxury, we were scavenging for food with our bare hands, living off our findings, sleeping on the ground, fighting off the—”

“Mountain lions,” Chemia deadpans.

Naftoli elbows him. “—mosquitoes. Fighting off the mosquitoes. And now, we present to you, voilà! Fish à la Martin!”

Yehuda looks up from a giant grill pan on the stove. “Mmm, you’ll love it, it’s just like sushi.”

I stare at them. “Are we just meeting for the first time? Do you honestly think I’m eating fresh fish? Nay, fresh fish that was touched by all of your hands?”

I putter around the kitchen a few minutes and turn back to them, plate in hand. “Voilà! Peanut butter and banana on whole wheat à la Bella!”

Then I escape to light a few scented candles before the scent of fish attaches itself permanently to my clothing.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 822)