“I can’t afford it. I drained my savings paying for treatment,” I started.
“You’re not paying a dime,” my son said, cutting me off. “I’ve got it covered. All of it.”
I pressed my napkin to my face. I hadn’t cried in front of them in months, and I wasn’t about to start now.
Vanessa tilted her head.
“You’ll have energy for the trip, won’t you? To help out a little with the kids? Just the little things.”
“Of course,” I said quickly. “Whatever you need. I can’t wait!”
Jason frowned faintly but didn’t say anything then.
There was one snag. My son had a business trip that overlapped with our travel dates, a conference he couldn’t postpone. He apologized about six times.
“You guys will have a blast without me,” he said, forcing a grin.
That week, I went shopping.
I picked out a modest navy swimsuit and a wide-brimmed straw hat to cover my short, feathery hair. I felt almost pretty in the mirror.
The night before we flew out, Jason stopped by with the kids. He found me on the porch and sat down close while my grandkids watched cartoons in the living room.
“Why would anything feel off?”
He hesitated.
“Vanessa’s been different lately. Just promise me.”
“I promise.”
Then he called Amber over and showed her how to call Daddy on Grandma’s phone in case I got tired or sad and needed him. She nodded solemnly, the way children do when they understand more than adults think.
I didn’t know it yet, but that quiet moment on the porch would matter more than any suitcase I packed.
The taxi pulled up to the beachfront hotel just after noon.
I could smell the salt in the air before I even opened the door.
My heart did a little skip. Almost 60 years on this earth, and I was finally about to see the ocean!
I carried my little suitcase up to my room, humming under my breath.
The window faced the water.
I set my wide-brimmed hat on the dresser and started to unpack, folding my modest swimsuit with hands that still trembled a little from the months of treatment.
I was already picturing the following morning. Sunrise. My birthday. My feet in the sand.
Then the door swung open without so much as a knock.
Vanessa marched in with Amber, Gerald, and little Nelly trailing behind her like ducklings.
She was already in a sundress and sunglasses, her phone in one hand and a beach bag in the other.
“Okay, Tilda, listen up,” she said, dropping the bag on my bed. “You’re watching the kids today. They need to nap this afternoon, then you have to feed them. After that, you must take them down to the beach.”
I blinked at her, still holding my folded swimsuit.
“Tomorrow, same thing,” my DIL continued. “And on the last day, I want you to take them to the water park.”
I was stunned.
Gerald was tugging at my sleeve. Nelly was staring up at me with those big, round eyes.
I set the swimsuit down carefully.
I love my grandchildren, but I thought this trip was supposed to be more for me.
“Sweetheart,” I said, careful to keep my voice soft, “but tomorrow is my birthday. I was hoping to spend these days a little more on myself. Just a little quiet time by the water.”
Vanessa lowered her sunglasses, rolled her eyes, and looked at me as if I’d said something ridiculous.
She let that hang in the air. Amber’s little face went still.
