When the bus driver turned the lights off, the bus glowed with an eerie bluish light from all the devices.

Another girl approached the teens in front of me. While still looking at her phone, she fluttered a hand in their direction. “OMG, nails!” she squealed.

The eyes of the girl in front of me flitted briefly over to her friend’s hand. Then she snapped a quick picture, which she studied intently. “OMG!” she said, and began waving her own hand over her head. Her friend snapped a quick picture, then studied it on her phone. “OMG, yours are long,” she said with unconcealed jealousy.

Those nails reminded me of an Indian tribe of which the wealthiest members grow their pinkie nails long as a status symbol — they’re rich enough not to need to do any hard work.

I wondered what the nails said about these girls.

An argument broke out behind me between a floppy-haired boy wearing eyeliner and a group of guys wearing chains, the occasional Nachman kappel between them. They were talking in Hebrew, and my brain doesn’t automatically eavesdrop on Hebrew the same way it eavesdrops on English, so I had to tune in and concentrate (okay, okay, I didn’t have to. I could have watched my own reflection in the darkened window instead).

At first, I wasn’t sure what I was hearing. But there it was: They were arguing about the quickest way to get to the Kosel for Selichos. The Kosel?! Please tell me that’s not where these kids are headed, I thought. Dressed like that?

But then my breath caught. OMG, I thought (because OMGs are contagious, didn’t you know?), they’re going to the Kosel! They could go to all the hangouts — and maybe they will, afterward — but tonight, they’re going to the midnight Selichos at the Kosel.

I felt a balloon of love swell inside of me. These children! Our children! Going to the Kosel — with the excessive makeup and scanty clothing and their Yiddishe Yiddishe hearts! I looked at the couple in front of me again. If you survive these years, I thought, in ten years, you guys will be model citizens, holding down boring jobs — I just know it.

And I smiled at the girl in front of me, who had clearly felt me staring and was now holding up her phone in mirror-mode to get a good stare right back at me. I thought, this is one of the most lovely, holy, people I’ve ever seen in my life. Her mirror-self blinked, and then she smiled tentatively back.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 912)