I don’t cry easily, but I put my hand over my mouth. I’d grown up in Ohio. I’d seen the ocean in movies and on other people’s Instagram accounts, but never with my own eyes and my own feet in the sand.
“Martin, I’ve never actually seen it!”
“I know. That’s the point!”
Dorah started jumping. Noah asked if there would be sharks. Ben repeated the word “ocean” as if it were a spell.
I don’t cry easily.
Then Martin cleared his throat, the way he did before saying something he didn’t want to say.
“So. Small thing. I bought one more ticket. For Mom.”
Everything turned quiet in my head, even though the kids were still shrieking.
“Honey, wasn’t this trip supposed to be for our family?”
My husband shrugged, already halfway out of the conversation.
“I bought one more ticket.”
“Yeah, but Mom called and said she wanted to come on vacation with us, too. Well, I couldn’t say no to her.”
I nodded slowly because that’s what I always did.
***
That night, as I folded tiny swim trunks into a suitcase, I felt something I couldn’t name yet. Not anger, not exactly. Something quieter, something that knew before I did that the vacation I’d been dreaming of was already slipping out of my hands.
“I couldn’t say no to her.”
***
The taxi pulled up to the hotel just past noon, and the first thing I noticed was the salt in the air.
I could actually smell it. Something inside me went quiet in the best way.
Dorah pressed her face against the window and gasped. Noah squealed. Ben clapped his sticky little hands against my cheek.
“Mama, is that it? Is that the ocean?” Dorah asked.
“Yeah, baby. That’s it.”
We checked in, dumped the suitcases, and Martin herded everyone straight down to the beach.
I could actually smell it.
***
When I stepped onto the sand and finally saw that endless blue horizon, my eyes filled before I could stop them.
I stood there, letting the wind move my hair, and for about 90 seconds, I felt like a whole person again.
Then Clara’s voice cut through it.
“Emily. Over here.”
My MIL was already stretched across a lounge chair in a wide-brimmed hat, patting the sand beside her as if I were a dog.
My eyes filled before I could stop them.
I walked over.
She handed me a folded piece of hotel stationery with her handwriting on it, neat and slanted.
