Grandparents are different from parents. Grandparents never get mad, but they are very worried if you go a few feet into the ocean with, like, even a tiny wave coming.
I have a Yiayia and Papou and a Halmoni and Haroboji, because I am half Korean and half New York.
Daddy says some of me came from him and is Greek. Crazy right? There wasn’t Greek in mommy’s belly.
Parents make you say sorry when they get frustrated. And sometimes they are sad.
Mommy cried a lot when Imo (Aunt Sue) died. Halmi and Harbi never even say her name.
After the morning race for chairs, from which Julie emerges with four under an umbrella, away from the smell of the grill, McCormick remembers rising early in Laguna Beach to claim the curtained couch by that pool. Because his sister-in-law needed privacy and the softest seat.
He’s glad Julie, helping June into a shimmering mermaid suit she bought her on the way to breakfast, doesn’t hear the women in the row ahead describing elaborate exploratory, the chance of biopsy.
Why do they sit together, leisure and mutation? And, as June asks often, what do you look like when you’re dead?