Vacation Flight

Eleven months a year, I’m a staunch city girl…But come July, and I am transformed into a country girl

I love the noise and the energy, even the blaring horns and ever-present construction dust. (Okay, maybe not the dust.) But come July, and I am transformed into a country girl. Or, these days, into a wannabe country girl.

As a child, summer days unrolled in lush, green expanses of freedom: seen-better-days-bungalows, chasing butterflies, and joining my visiting Zeidy for a hike through the woods, picking blueberries. But by the time I was six, the real adventures began. My mother’s inborn wings began to spread and flutter. Summer found us in Monsey, Monroe, Lakewood, Bnei Brak and the Dead Sea, Miami Beach. Much as I was a proud city girl, summer was the time to make my escape.

But then came the year I found myself stuck in the city. It was my first year out of school and I was holding down a full-time office job. Bah. The previous year, I had spent July doing sports and dances in camp, and August, traveling throughout Eastern Europe. Now, it was Boro Park and boredom: the only trek was to my office. My wings beat silently.

I soon defected from my job and joined my mother in Miami Beach. I had been planning to leave my job anyway, so why not do it then and escape the sticky Brooklyn misery?