Later I’d catch her looking up.

I’d look to where she was looking.

“A giant horse is carrying away two orphan children, but one has fallen in the river and the horse can’t turn around to pick it up.”

I would stare at the clouds. I would look exactly where she was looking. I would stand so close to her that her soft brown hair tickled my ear, but all I could see was a cloud, that—if I crossed my eyes a little—could look like a boat.

“Why does she see those things?” I asked my mother.

“Same thing that got her father rich while the rest of the people just get by,” she said. “Maybe they eat magic lentils.”

“Why don’t you try to cook us some magic lentils?” I asked her, only half joking.

“Only some people can have visions. Others will be happy.”

“How could someone who can’t see those beautiful visions be happier than someone who can?” I asked, but she clicked her tongue and looked away.

That day before Uncle Hamdi was supposed to come, I told Hanan.

“They’re coming from America?”

“Yes. They are both professors in a university. She is American and doesn’t speak Arabic. My mother is very happy they are coming and is cooking lots of delicious food.” I hoped Hanan was impressed, especially by the American wife.

“Mmm.” Hanan was quiet for a minute. “I won’t see you for a few days. We’re going to Nablus. My mother’s sister just had an operation and we’re going to go help out.”

Disappointment like a slap. The one time I had something to show off and not only was she not going to be around to see it, but she was going all the way to Nablus. Like she was trying to top my relative-visiting story with her own visiting-relative story.

We said good-bye, and when I went inside I found my mother and grandmother in the kitchen rolling grape leaves. I have never had stuffed grape leaves except during Ramadan.

“Yum! All of this for my uncle?” I asked.

My mother looked happy. “No, all of this for you and your sunshine smile.” She kissed me on the forehead. “Go wash your hands and come help us.”

The next day we got up early and went to Sitti’s house to clean some more and to cook. Bajis left with his yellow license plates and my father to go to the airport in Tel Aviv. Neighbors and relatives drifted in and out all day.

I swept and played and dusted and played, and then I went out on the balcony to wait. Finally, I saw the small white van tottering up the road. “They’re here, they’re here!” I yelled.