When I was a kid, for about 6 consecutive years my family would spend the last week of August, right before school started, at the Jersey shore. Wildwood to be exact, at a motel called The Brittany. It was the highlight of my year, every single year. Even to this day, it’s one of my favorite places on the planet.
Then one year we stopped going, just like that. Then a couple of years later, we tried it again. It wasn’t the whole family like it used to be, but just a few of us. Even worse, we weren’t at The Brittany. We were at a smaller, less quaint motel called The Lollipop. I was devastated because (1) this motel was further from the boardwalk than The Brittany, (2) they had no pinball machine in their lobby, (3) the slide to the pool that was in the brochure didn’t actually exist and (4) I found a spider in the bathroom. Most of all, I didn’t like the fact that things had changed.
Late one night I expressed my displeasure aloud while we all sat on the front balcony of our room. My mom yelled at me, said I was being ungrateful, and other things. Then she and my dad retired to our room to watch TV. My sister escaped to the boardwalk to go-cart with a cute Puerto Rican boy who was staying on the third floor. My aunt and uncle took my cousin to an ice cream parlor. I was left alone on the front balcony (not so much a balcony as we were on the first floor) with the sting of humiliation from a public scolding. I looked up at the sky and started to cry. There were stars up there, stars you don’t see in the city. After only a few seconds I saw something very bright streak across the darkness and vanish. It was so abrupt I jumped, and so quick I had to think whether I actually saw it or not. I had never seen a shooting star before but I knew that that’s what it must’ve been. I don’t remember if I made a wish on it or not. I think I was so surprised to see it that making a wish didn’t cross my mind.
I just starred at the spot it had appeared, eyes still wet. “This vacation isn’t all that bad,” I thought.
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