She was speechless. She’d thought the dinner out was the gift. Hmm, maybe she really had come a long way. Estee of a year ago would’ve expected diamonds and jewels for every occasion. Estee of today was honestly touched by the bangle with set stones he’d handed her. They were beautiful and she wasn’t sure she deserved them. But she wanted them, so you know, she would be accepting them.

“Thank you so much!”

He smiled. “Wish I could give you so much more….”

Tears sprang to her eyes. He was so sincere, so straightforward and appreciative.

She was always struggling, always trying to coexist with two conflicting emotions, the things she believed to be true on a deep level and the externalities she wanted in the moment, the confusing mix of appreciation and annoyance that she so often felt around Yonah.

“Yonah, it hasn’t been easy. But I agree it’s been the best year of my life. And it’s about to get a whole lot better, b’ezras Hashem.”

“B’shaah tovah!”

“B’shaah tovah,” she agreed. “And there’s no one else I’d rather do life with.”

He smiled at her. “Right back at you.”

She looked around at the other couples in The Loft. She was sure they had plenty they could teach her. But maybe, just maybe, she had something to bring to the table as well.

Dinner had gone incredibly well. She’d loved the bangle and the food was delicious, and now he had one more surprise up his sleeve. Estee had once told him that she found the whole “dessert in a restaurant with waiters singing” thing so cheesy but also kind of cute. Well, here went nothing.

Estee was deep in an explanation of her ideal diaper bag, which, while fascinating, Yonah wasn’t paying much attention to, because he knew that at any minute—

“Happy anniversary to youuuu, happy anniversary tooo youuuu!”

Estee’s face was cherry red as the waiters came out singing and placed a slice of s’mores pie in front of her.

“Just the way you like it,” he said, and she cracked up.

“Yonah, literally best night ever.”

He took a spoonful of pie. “Mmmm, this is really good. Well, maybe I can make your night even better. Do you want me to get a job? I was serious the other night. I know we planned on living a kollel life. Well, we did it. We did it for a year. And it was an incredible opportunity, and I appreciate you working to give me that, but if you’re not happy, then it isn’t what I want.”

He would’ve kept talking but Estee was shaking her head back and forth very fast.

“No. That’s not what I want. I’ve been thinking about it since you mentioned it last time, trust me, and I’m positive that as long as you’re still on board, what I want, more than steak dinners, is for you to be able to learn Torah all day. I’m serious. I’m young and my actions don’t always line up with my goals, but please, believe me.”

And maybe it was the ambiance, or the cake, or the way Estee was looking at him, but he did. He believed her.

Still, he decided he’d save the hard questions — such as how are we going to make it financially — for another day. If there was one thing his first year of marriage had taught him, it was that timing was everything.

“Pick three words from the table. Connect them to some part of yourself. Write about it.”

Golda smiled. These little games were one of the most interesting parts of the course.

And the course was quite interesting. She’d come to look forward to this hour and a half every Wednesday. She laughed at herself, but there was something about sitting down, entering a quiet headspace, and figuring out how to pluck emotions from inside and get them down on paper that seemed both a challenge and a treat.

She lifted three cards, one by one.

Basket.

Tree.

Tent.

Well, this was easy.

Back in Boston, she wrote, I was a basket. I carried other people and their woes, keeping them safe and secure. Back in Boston, I was a tree. I cast shade so others wouldn’t fade or burn or sweat. If I kept them happy, then I, too, was happy. I emulated the tent of Avraham, many doors, always opening and closing, never realizing I wanted a home with just one door, that was either opened or closed… by me.

Today, I am not a basket or a tree or a tent. Today, I am a woman, trying to figure out how her next step. Today, I am a pen.

She put down her pen. There, she’d covered all three words. But something felt unfinished. She picked up her pen again.

Maybe, just maybe, I desire to be a tent again?

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1049)