I wonder if that’s his secret. I wonder if he’s still feeding off his mother’s smile, or her energy, or her joy
Suddenly, the tears started to fall. But he’s my son, I told myself. I worked so hard to raise him. Why is he so happy to run off?
“You think it’ll get better when she grows up, right? Nope, then you’ll just be up at night worrying instead”
Exaggerating my youthful naïveté had been my standard way to deal with Israeli bureaucracy during all the years we lived in Israel
Little boys at bedtime get happy endings. “And the president gave him one.” I was about to start the explanation when my phone buzzed
But the best was yet to come. Deep down, at the very bottom of the treasure trove, was something I did not even know existed
