So I’d have to wait. Fine. I rested my chin in my hand and stared at Mama and Miriam taking their time gushing over Miriam’s report card. I was staring at them but I wasn’t really seeing them. Instead, my mind wandered through the streets of Chevron that were by now so familiar. Down to the edge of the city where the yeshivah lay nestled among the rocks, up to the Jewish section where so many of the Sephardic families lived for so long, around and around through the streets filled with houses and buildings that were home to Arabs and Jews, each one right next to the other. Even our apartment was owned by an Arab. But I’d already learned not to be scared of them. We were all doing the same things, after all.

The door banged open, jerking me out of the trip through Chevron that my mind was taking. “Dovid,” I grumbled, “do you have to make so much noise when you come in?”

Dovid made a face. “Hello, Mama,” he said, greeting her formally. He started doing that recently. He thinks he’s so big because Papa decided he can learn with the tutor in the yeshivah instead of in the Talmud Torah. The other boys who learn with the tutor are a little older than he is, so now he tries to act all high and mighty. I stuck my tongue out at him, but I’m not sure he saw.

“Dovid,” Mama exclaimed, standing up to set up lunch. I jumped up to help. See, I’m just as big as Dovid, even if he’ll always think I’m a baby.

“Elka,” Papa greeted me when I finally made it to his shop, my cheeks red from running in the heat. “I’m so happy you came.” He handed me a tool and some wood to smooth down while we talked. “Reb Moshe from next door asked for a new cabinet, and we’re going to build him the best cabinet in Chevron.”

I laughed. Papa always said that. Whatever we were making was always going to be the best in Chevron. I looked down at my hands and began to smooth out the sides of the wood.

“Elka,” Papa said slowly, his hands busy with his tools, “how was your last day of school?”

“Good,” I grinned. “We even got our report cards, but Mama wanted me to leave mine at home.”

“I’ll have to look at it tonight,” Papa said. “And what will you do tomorrow? With no school to keep you busy?”

I shrugged.

“How would you like to go on a trip?” Papa asked, a small smile dangling from the corners of his mouth.

I looked up sharply. A trip? “Yes.”

Papa nodded at the smile on my face. “I think it’s about time you saw Eshel Avraham.”

“I think the girls in my class have been there,” I said, my voice beginning to rise with excitement. “That big tree that may be from all the way back to the times of Avraham Avinu?”

“Yes,” Papa said. “So you want to go?”

I nodded, my eyes shining with excitement.

“I’ll ask Akeem to take you,” Papa said, nodding in Akeem’s direction. “You’ll go with Dovid in the afternoon tomorrow. I think you can both enjoy the trip.”

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough, but finally, there I was, swinging my legs over the back of Akeem’s donkey. Dovid settled in behind me, and Akeem climbed up and took hold of the reins from the back. To think that just a few months ago I was terrified of these donkeys!

The donkey trotted steadily down the path, through the city to the famous tree.

“Did the boys in yeshivah tell you anything about Eshel Avraham?” I asked Dovid over the clopping of the donkey’s feet.

“Yeah,” Dovid answered. “It’s huge, and really old, but still so strong.”

“But is it really from the times of Avraham Avinu? Is it really his tree?” I twisted my head around so I could see Dovid’s face, but quickly turned back because it was so uncomfortable.

“Who knows?” Dovid answered, his face jerking closely against my head. “But they say it is.”

And then, there it was in front of us. Dovid and I scrambled down off the donkey and circled the giant tree trunk. When Dovid was on the other side, I couldn’t even see him. And it would take more than the two of us to circle our hands around its trunk. I never saw a tree like that. In the middle, the trunk split into three huge branches that hung out over the sides. Maybe for this tree these were branches, but each one was the size of a regular tree trunk.

We stood there circling the tree, running around it and looking for a while before Akeem called us back to the donkey.

I got home bursting to tell Mama about the trip we had taken, but before I could say anything, Mama broke in with her own news.

“Elka,” she said, “I have something really exciting to tell you. Something special — just for you.”

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 904)