June 10th

"Cecily, come here." My father's voice boomed through the thin walls just as I was closing my suitcase. I opened it cautiously again and shouted back.

"J'arrive, Papa." (I'm coming, Papa.) I walked down the hallway, eager to see what Papa needed. My family lived like they did in France. We were français(French), that's why. I lived,  ate, and breathed français every day. It's part of the reason why I mixed français into my words everyday. He made me speak to him in français all the time.

"Qu'est-ce, Papa?" (What is it, Papa?)

"Ma chérie. Are you excited for your trip? Are you packed?"

"Oui et oui." (Yes and yes)

"Exellent. Go up and bring your bags down."

"Un sac. Non, des sacs. Un sac." (A bag. Not bags. A bag.)

He laughed and shooed me upstairs. I needed to zip up what flimsy things I had. My family wasn't rich at all. In fact, we lived in poverty. But, my mom volunteered at this camp and they said that I could go for free. I just hope that I won't trip up and start speaking français at random moments but, I probably will.

I rushed to get my bag in order before going back downstairs.

"Maman is in the kitchen making muffins for the neighbors. Go and help her."

"Bien sûr." (Of course.)

I backed into the kitchen to help Maman feed the poverty yet again. Maman believes that if you give to others, they will forever be grateful. It's true in poverty villages. Everything she goes around with her baskets, the neighborhood all comes out to thank her and get one of her treats. Today, blueberry muffins were the menu. I mixed in all of the blueberries and poured the batter into the cups while Maman quietly and sufficiently mixed the batter together and put the tray into the oven.

"We're almost done, Maman."

"I have eyes, Cecily. I can see that."

"Just checking."

When we finished all ten batches, both of us were tired, messy, and covered in blueberry muffin mix. We both decided a shower was better than trying to go out in these clothes. So, cold showers it was. Not like it ever wasn't.
....
"Thank you so very much. God bless."

"De rien."

"She says You're welcome."

My mom glared at me as I realized my mistake. I'm barely able to keep the languages from mixing together like the muffin mix. Once the last muffin had disappeared from the basket, we headed back, hearts to the sky. It was always my favorite activity as a kid; giving away the food to the unfortunate. Now, I saw it as something to do in the future.

As I climbed into my rickety bed, my hopes soared above like birds in flight. This was positively going to be the best summer ever; I could just feel it.