That fruit platter wasn’t meant for them

As told to Roizy Baum

W

ith 12 married children spread across continents, several texting-free family members, and a constant whirlwind of simchahs, the family hotline had become a lifeline. It was our central hub — our living room, bulletin board, and group hug, all rolled into one. So when the red notification popped up on my phone — “New voice message on Gross Family Hotline” — I stopped what I was doing and pressed play.

The familiar voice of my mother-in-law, warm and brimming with emotion, filled the line.

“Wow,” she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. “I’m so touched. Thank you so much for the beautiful fruit platter. Tatty and I really enjoyed it. It was so thoughtful of you. The fact that it was from all of our kinderlach… mamash, it made our day.”

I froze in the middle of clearing the kitchen table, one hand still holding a sticky toddler’s yogurt cup. The fruit platter? Wait. That wasn’t meant for them.