As the hours pass, my internal narrator begins to sound a little like Good Night Moon. Goodbye laundry. Goodbye clock. Goodbye daughter wearing one yellow sock
It was her background, he didn’t want to get involved with a girl from a broken home. An only child, whose single mom might need her after her marriage
Who will live and flourish and grow within the hallways of this building, and who will die inside
Before every Yom Tov — hey, even before Shabbos, which comes every week, so I really should know better — I have these romantic visions of a family sitting around discussing the mitzvos hayom. We’re all cozy and serene; everyone is sharing their ideas without interrupting or doing their best to oust their sibling from the coveted
I’d wanted to spend the evening curled up with a book, losing myself in an alternative reality. But Aaron’s vort forced me to get dressed, get out, and face the world.
The Bluzhever Rebbe did not allow seats to be assigned in his shul. “Whoever wants to come daven with me is welcome,” he would say simply
