“Yes, it can really feel like there’s no movement,” she says, “but they’re doing the best they can with the tools they have, I think. And just the fact that they showed up signals that they care, no? I’m sure spending time with people like you, people who care and show interest, makes all the difference.”

He looked thoughtful. “I hear. Golda, you should do something like this. You’re so good with people.”

She was touched by his confidence in her — yet also ashamed. She was afraid she might have had enough of people to last her a lifetime. Still, Dovid’s words shone a bright light on the fact that she really, really needed to do something with her life. Wordle was all very nice and good, but voicing suggestions out loud to herself as she played the daily word game couldn’t really be called enriching.

She was going to make Dovid a glass of tea, and then she was going to ask her dear daughter-in-law to forward her all the Lakewood Neshei groups and email chats. She was going to find a hobby.

Yonah drove home in happy silence.

Cholent and Chumash had been fantastic. The guys were on fire, and it felt good to whip out his old trusty guitar. Too bad Estee couldn’t see him then — in his element, entertaining, sharing the wealth.

But the night had been long; it was 1 a.m. and he was exhausted.

No way he was getting up in time for Friday shiur. The question was, did he tell Estee tonight to preempt her disappointment or just let her figure it out for herself when he was still in bed at 8:30? They were going to her parents for Shabbos, so at least he wouldn’t be late for errands and last-minute groceries.

She was still up when he walked in, curled up on the couch in a tichel and sweatshirt, reading a magazine.

“How was it?” she asked, smiling, putting down her magazine.

He smiled back. “Nice, baruch Hashem. Impressed them all with my musical prowess.”

She giggled. “I’m sure. It’s so late though, you must be bombed.”

He nodded, perfect segue. “Yeah, I’m falling off my face.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I feel bad, but I don’t think I’ll be getting up on time tomorrow. I’ll need to figure things out so this doesn’t happen again, but tonight, the guys were pumped, so I didn’t want to leave early….”

He was rambling because she still hadn’t said anything. He stopped abruptly.

She pursed her lips, then relaxed her face. “Okay, thanks for telling me. Now I know not to wake you.”

He blinked. Wow, so communication really worked. Who knew?

“Great. You must be really tired yourself, no?”

She yawned. “Nah, insomnia. I’ll be there soon.”

He gave a little salute, and headed to bed, feeling both guilty for staying up too late and overwhelmed at the small miracle that had just occurred.

Estee watched him go. She’d done it. Just like Rebbetzin Weiss had coached her, she’d tried to see the situation from his perspective.

It wasn’t difficult. He’d put his all into these boys and then time had run away from him. She understood. But she also heard the other side, the side that said, “You’re an adult, you can make sure you get to bed early enough so that you can fulfill your obligations the next day.”

She’d quieted that part, but she’d still heard it. Rebbetzin Weiss had told her that in marriage, there often isn’t a clear right and wrong, just the situation right in front of you and what you choose to do about it.

And in this case, she believed she had chosen well. Rebbetzin Weiss had stressed that a husband’s ruchniyus was his achrayus alone.

All the seminary classes about sending her husband off to yeshivah early in the morning were mewling in protest, but she couldn’t listen to them right now. She was suddenly much too tired….

“Hamavdil bein kodesh l’chol….”

Estee leaned over and put her arm around Avigail. “Gut voch, it was such a nice Shabbos! Thanks, Mommy!”

Her mother smiled at them. “It really was. Look at my two married ladies. Well, almost.”

“Nine weeks and three days,” Avigail declared.

Everyone snorted. Estee stretched. “Let’s keep this party going! Shopping and brunch tomorrow? Girls only?”

She grinned at Yonah who pouted exaggeratedly. Avigail looked at their mother, biting her lip.

Estee looked from one to the other. “What?”

Her mother waved an airy hand. “Let’s raincheck, sweetheart. I’m actually taking Avigail on a little kallah-mother date tomorrow, we’re heading to Brooklyn for linen and then grabbing dinner in the city. But let’s do brunch later in the week.”

Estee nodded quickly. “Oh, totally, no problem. Have fun!”

And she could blame pregnancy for the fact that tears were threatening to spill out of her eyes, right? Right?

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1044)