Listening to Baba’s story, her words penetrated deeper than any mussar speech. Because Baba is so… real. Beneath her petite frame, my grandmother is a very powerful person. Passionate. No weak, hazy, beliefs; when Baba believes something, she lives it in every breath she takes,
I strive to fill the hours, build a routine, drown out the seconds ticking away. But filling time isn’t living and I want to live
But before I can start cooking, I remember the daily chapter of Tehillim I’ve promised to recite for the refuah of a young lady
The most anticipated date on the balabuste’s calendar isn’t the first day of school. It’s actually “Beis Noach” — the Monday after Succos ends,
“So, Ma,” my 17-year-old asked again that year. “Are you going to shul for the whole davening?”
Why can’t I feel a little more… more something? It’s not like I don’t care. It’s Rosh Hashanah, for goodness sake!
