“We’ve got to decide one way or the other, Abe. There are drawbacks and advantages to staying in Boro Park and to moving here”

September 1964

Clarity came with the crash of shattered glass.

The trip to the neighbors, Rabbi and Mrs. Kleinfeld, was a success. More than a decade older than Annie and Abe, the Kleinfelds had raised and married off their five children from the small community they’d lived in for most of their married life. Rabbi Kleinfeld was a shochet at a nearby kosher chicken factory, as well as gabbai of the local shul. Annie found Mrs. Kleinfeld to be a warm and friendly grandmother, with a captivating smile, a well-honed sense of humor, chatty but not prying: the perfect neighbor. Honest, too, about the advantages and drawbacks of living in a small town, with an even smaller frum population.

Yes, a successful visit, even down to the delicious home-baked brownies and fresh-picked blueberries. Except... as Annie prepared to return to the house that they might — or might not — purchase, her mind was still a whirlpool of racing thoughts, a muddle of pros and cons, yeses and nos, maybes and perhapses and what ifs.

If, as Papa had once told her, “There is no joy like the joy of resolution of doubts,” then clearly Annie Levine was seeking joy. And, so far, not finding it.

She and Ruchele returned to the house (buy it? leave it?) in Yoel’s car. Annie had been so caught up in her decision-making she’d hardly noticed Moe’s absence until it was time to visit the neighbors. When she asked Abe, he’d merely shrugged, suggesting that Annie and Ruchele drive with Yoel, Malka, and the baby, while the rest of the family took the ten-minute walk.

So now they’d examined the house, picnicked on the grounds, met the neighbors. A family meeting to discuss the future took all of ten minutes; everyone was on board, except for Annie, who remained silent. “There’s no pressure, sweetheart, whatever you decide,” Abe whispered to her, “and I mean that.”

Another reason to feel guilty and confused.