The scene last evening was Lolo's Seafood Shack with three of my daughters, the one I gave birth to, and two of my heart. A wonderful time was had, cracking crabs' legs, peeling shrimp, and laughing and talking while seated around rickety whitewashed tables and roughly made benches under a corrugated-tin-roof shelter draped with fairy lights. The restaurant's back yard had a distinctly Caribbean vibe, barely a hint of Harlem in that garden. And since two of us were Jamaican born (my niece and me) and two were first-generation American children of Jamaican-born immigrants (my daughter and her friend, Gabby, who is one of my heart daughters), the Caribbean beach vibe translated pretty exactly to a Hellshire beach experience. I've been dreaming a lot about escape recently, and I believe that for a few hours last night, I achieved lift-off.