With the Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo
Spain
“Are you sure you have everything?”
“Sí, ’Buela,” I answer for the fiftieth time. It’s finally the day I leave for Spain, and my suitcase is packed, Babygirl’s daycare pickup schedule has been finalized by ’Buela and Mrs. Palmer, and we’ve agreed repeatedly that I’ll FaceTime them every night.
“Did you pack a skirt for church?” I nod. Even though she and I both know I’m not going to church unless it’s part of a tourist event.
’Buela peers into my suitcase. “And you put all your hair product in Ziploc baggies? The worst thing would be if they spill all over your clothes.”
I can imagine several worse things, but I nod dutifully. “Sí, ’Buela.”
She claps her hands together. “Oh! An umbrella, what if it rains?” I grab her arm before she finds something else for me to pack. And I hug her tight. “It’s only seven days. I’m going to be fine. I love you.”
’Buela pats my back and runs off to call her friend from the doctor’s office, Mr. Jagoda, to make sure he knows the exact time he needs to pick me up for the Philadelphia airport. I’m not sure what I’ll talk to him about, but a free ride was too good to resist. Malachi’s aunt will be taking him, and although some of the other kids were coordinating rides, Pretty Leslie is the only other person who lives near me, and she didn’t ask for a ride and I for damn sure didn’t offer. I pick Babygirl out of her crib—I really need to get on buying her a bed—and she snuggles in next to me.
This time tomorrow I’ll be in Spain. And this is the most excited and scared I’ve been since I birthed this little being. For a whole week I’ll be able to birth a new version of myself. And I can’t wait.