Mishpacha Magazine

A Girl Called Kaila

Strange to hear this woman recounting a piece of my past. How many times had I wandered up and down that road wit ...

My old neighbor Sheva’le is in her forties, wears a sheitel, and has all the vivaciousness of an 11-year-old

There’s no supper, not in the oven, not in the fridge — not even on the agenda — as I enter my apartment at ...

He knew when I was sick with cancer, and always seemed concerned about how I felt. “How you feel? Good? Your family? ...

When Bubby’s cat, dog, and bird tricks wore off, she would eagerly teach me pithy Yiddish proverbs about the value of ...

Zeide dipped his hands into the cut-glass bowl. Cupping his palms, he raised them high, heaped with silver, coins flowing, ...

My natural state is usually sedentary, but flick on an Avraham Fried tune, and I morph from couch potato to spinning ...

“It’s time for Mommy’s treat,” I say. Because it’s been a long day for me too, and I am such a good mother

“I see you’re drawing a lot of terrorists. Is that what the boys at school are talking about?” I ask my nine-year-ol ...

I am the official matriarch of our family. Too young for the job, in my mind, but it is mine nonetheless,

A quintessential Brit, my mother loves her tea: a simple Earl Grey, left to brew for the perfect few minutes, with j ...