Mishpacha Magazine

One Red Flower

We got busy with summer and vacation plans and sometime when we weren’t looking the red plant grew. It crept along the wall, hugging the fence

The days passed, and the caterpillars followed the kit’s promises to a t. They wriggled, they fell, they ate, they spun silk

Knowing that hundreds of us were making our way on foot to the last remaining Wall made it all connect somehow. I had to come back

Do I have that same kavod? Though I’m dressed more appropriately, I’m watching from the sidelines and can’t even manage to be wholeheartedly present

I resisted the crazed urge to call out to her, to yell for her to stop, to take me, a perfect stranger, along with her

I mean, I wear this stuff, it’s my unique style, but would my students get it? I need to be new and fresh, hip and cool, right?

But then again, the ring stays on my finger while funds come and go. I’ve learned that the hard way

Yes, we needed yeshuos, but were we supposed to actually scream about it, cry about it, publicly?

Now, suddenly, on this night before bedikas chometz, my old father has reappeared. The father who knew us, who loved us

But in the muted, mint-green corridors, I learned how very fallible the body is, how little we can trust it. We humans are always at its mercy

For just under a dollar, I can dispense TLC, validation, and the easing of rules where they don’t really matter