Smadar looks at Margalit. “What should I write? The Jewish story? The history of the Jews?”

“Let’s make a list of what we know,” Smadar finally says.

“You love lists, that’s so you.” Margalit chuckles, then bites her lower lip when she sees a strange expression cross her cousin’s face.

“So me? What does that mean? I barely know what’s me, how can you possibly know?”

Margalit holds Smadar’s gaze. “Because.”

“Because? Just because?” Smadar’s voice seems to rise an octave from one word to the next.

“You’re a list maker. Lists are wonderful. They mean you’re organized, thoughtful, careful, precise, analytical.”

“Huh.” Smadar seems to deflate a little, the puff going out of her angry balloon. “Okay.”

Without another word, Margalit passes her cousin a notebook and a pen, and Smadar begins to write.

The Box: What We Know

Abuelita wanted us to have this.

She arranged that we’d open it together.

Every object tells a story.

So far, each story has had something to do with the Jewish—

Smadar looks at Margalit. “What should I write? The Jewish story? The history of the Jews?”

“The Jewish experience,” Margalit says.