When people spoke about the stress of moving, Simmy figured they were referring to the technical aspects. The schlepping and bending, the sorting and packing. No one had ever explained how emotionally spent she’d feel — the threadbare nerves, the feeling of being stretched so thin she might unravel at any moment.

“But what is that?” Simmy snapped, rubbing her bleary eyes.

“It’s nothing.” Laibel cleared his throat. “Just… shtick.”

He set the small box down on the dining room table, then nervously scanned the small room. Five half-packed suitcases were strewn about the tiny apartment, making their minuscule abode seem even more cramped.

Simmy walked over to the box and picked it up, examining it. “A label maker? For real?” she asked incredulously.

Laibel mumbled something about getting started on the seforim.

“’Cuz… like, your name is Laibel?” she prodded, the ire rising in her chest.

“It’s a joke, Sim,” Laibel said with a tight smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

Simmy shook her head in disbelief. So cute that Yossi has spare cash to spend on jokes. Maybe he could spread the wealth a bit. “You’d think he would have gotten you something slightly more meaningful as a goodbye gift,” she mumbled, turning back to the shelf she’d been emptying.

“Hey — whoa, this is hardly a goodbye gift. Not only is Yossi my brother, he’s married to my wife’s best friend. Something tells me we’ll be seeing them in the future.”

“Well, of course.” Simmy rolled her eyes. “I just meant that it’ll be different. You won’t be taking the Mir bus together every morning or jogging together after night seder. No more Shabbos afternoon chavrusas. They’ll be here in Ramat Eshkol, we’ll be in Elmway. It’s all going to change. So it is goodbye. For now.”

Laibel plopped down on the worn leather couch. “Knowing Mimmy’s parents, we’ll be seeing them plenty. What was the last event they flew them into the States for? Their cook’s granddaughter’s bas mitzvah?”

Simmy took a photo album off the shelf and placed it into a suitcase.

Right. Of course. Mimmy’s parents will bring them in. And continue to support them here in Eretz Yisrael. And Yossi will continue to shteig away. They’ll walk together to the Kosel when the weather turns warm, they’ll soak in the kedushah every day. She glanced over at her husband.

Poor Laibel. Look what I’m taking from him. Eretz Yisrael and his brother. If he’d married someone like Mimmy, someone with money, we wouldn’t have to leave after only one year of kollel. This is all my fault. He must really resent me. That’s why he’s being distant. That’s why he won’t tell me what the deal is with the label maker. What time is it in America? I must speak to Mrs. Perlik. She’ll know what to do.

Laibel was fiddling with the label maker.

“Miscellaneous is with two Ls, right?

Our labeled boxes will be quite a sight.

Seforim and linen, dishes and socks,

With these labels we’ll know what’s in each box!”

Oh, great. He’s rhyming again. He only speaks in rhyme when he’s stressed or upset. It’s official. He totally, totally thinks I’m terrible.

After dinner, Laibel walked into the kitchen and found Simmy deep inside a cabinet, wiping it down with a rag.

“I hope you’re okay with peanut butter and jelly for Shabbos this week,” she called out. “Because I already gave away the spices.”

“Sure.”

Poor Simmy, thought Laibel. She’s so upset we’re leaving. I feel terrible. It’s all my fault, but I don’t know how open I should be with her. What would Yossi do in this situation? He’d say something profound like “The Truth Is the Way to Better the Day.”

Simmy popped her head out of the cabinet and frowned. “I was joking. I’m not serving PB and J for Shabbos. No self-respecting person would do such a thing and anyway we’re invited out to Mimmy because it’s our last Shabbos. I’m bringing dessert, a tiny vanilla cake with sugared strawberries. I spent like four weeks working on my frosted roses and I think I finally have the technique down and also do you not like me?”

“Huh…? Wait, what?” Wives are confusing. So, so confusing. They should come with user manuals like microwaves and cameras.

“Do you think I’m terrible? Because you’re being weird. And you slipped into rhyme before, and you only do that when you’re upset…” Simmy trailed off.

“Chas v’shalom! I don’t think that of you at all!” He said emphatically. He waited for Simmy to beam and thank him for his kind words, but she looked even more morose than before. The Truth Is the Way to Better the Day. “Look, I actually wanted to apologize about before, with the label maker... I found Yossi’s gift to be a little…”

Simmy closed the cabinet. “Obscure? Unsentimental? Triggering?” she offered.

“Yeah, maybe the last one.”

Simmy grabbed a mug and made an emergency cup of tea without breaking eye contact once. “Wanna share your feelings?” she asked softly.

“I’m not in seminary.”

“Have some tea.”

“Still not in seminary.”

“Forget the tea. Visualize yourself holding a sledgehammer in one hand and a power drill in the other.”

Laibel sighed, but closed his eyes anyway. “Yeah, okay. That’s weirdly better. It’s like this. I went through a brief phase, a long time ago, when I felt I needed my own identity. It was always Yossi and Laibel this and Yossi and Laibel that and I needed to be my own person. Detach a bit. So I went around and like... labeled everything.”

“Labeled everything?”

“Everything.”

“Like everything everything? Your sheets? Your toothbrush?”

“Everything. The whole thing was over pretty quickly. My parents weren’t having it. But Simmy, I see how hard it is for you that we’re leaving Eretz Yisrael, and I think…I think it’s my fault. And I just want to say I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean your fault?”

“The whole needing my own identity thing. I guess those feelings resurfaced recently. Living across the street from Yossi is fine, but it’s like we’re lumped together again. Yossi and Laibel Shteig by Rav Asher. Yossi and Laibel Try to Sign Up for Meuchedet. Yossi and Laibel Take Their Wives for Ultrasounds. Yossi and Laibel Listen to The Doona Versus Bugaboo Debate Until They Want to Cry. Yossi and Laibel Try to Satisfy Pregnancy Cravings and Spend a Fortune at the Makolet That Sells American Products for Four Times the Normal Price.

“I think part of my reason for wanting to move back is to get some space. It’s as if Yossi was born with perfect middos. He’s a year younger than me, but ever since we were kids, it was always him pushing me to be better — befriend the kid in the wheelchair, save the little girl with a broken toy stroller. Help every Jew no matter what, no matter who. And I’m grateful for that. I am. He helped me become a better person… It’s just—”

Simmy looked at the floor, an image of her auburn-haired, green-eyed brother-in-law flashing before her eyes. He was definitely a goody-goody.

“Look,” Laibel continued. “The moving thing was subconscious, I didn’t even realize why I was pushing for us to go to Elmway. I guess I just wanted to be the first one to move on for once, instead of my little brother paving the way. And when Yossi gave me that label maker, it was like he was telling me he got it.

He understood my need to move on, move away.

It’s like he was saying, ‘Big bro, it’s okay.’

Oh, man, I’m rhyming, I let down my guard.

I’m sorry, Simmy, old habits die hard.”

Simmy shook her head. “It’s not your fault we’re leaving, Laibel. It’s my fault. I couldn’t find a normal job here. This is the way it’s been my whole life. There was never enough money. It used to just affect me — the hand-me-down Shabbos dresses, boring summers, broken winter paraphernalia. But now the fact that we can’t make ends meet is affecting you too! Your learning and your growth!

“And I look across the street at what Mimmy and Yossi have…” Simmy sighed, nervously twisting her brown sheitel into a long braid. “We’re moving because we can’t afford to stay, Laibel. But I wish we could.” She shook her head sadly, her braid drooping. “This is how it is with us. Mimmy and me. Always.”

“I know, Simmy.”

“Her parents have a fancy house on the stunning side of the boulevard. My parents’ house on the opposite side is falling apart.”

“That’s kind of an exaggeration—”

“You know we switched lives once, right? For a bit?”

“You’ve mentioned it.” Laibel poured himself a glass of water..

“I moved into her house. She went to mine.”

“Yup. You told me the story.”

“Our teacher recommended it. Mrs. Perlik.”

“So you said.”

“I gorged on cookies. Drank six cups of hot chocolate. I tried on all her dresses.”

“Don’t forget the ice skates.”

“And you know what, Laibel? The lifestyle of the rich and famous isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I mean, I can’t say it wasn’t nice to be pampered—”

“What would Mrs. Perlik say about our situation?” Laibel cut in.

Simmy thought for a minute. “She’d say, ‘Well, we have two people taking the blame for the decision to move back. I’m confused — whose fault is this move anyway?’

“And then we’d answer in unison, ‘Maybe it’s neither one of our faults, and both of our faults all at once!’

“And she’d say, ‘Well, girls— I mean, um, well, young couple— I don’t see faults here, I see beautiful shalom bayis!’ And then she’d quote a Chazal befitting the situation.”

“Whoa.”

“I know, right? Brilliance.”

Laibel stood up straighter, looked at the old cracked balatot, the single ceramic sink, the mold on the ceiling where the rain seeped in, Simmy’s old yellow umbrella hanging upside down to catch the drops. He clapped his hands.

“This is going to be good for us, Simmy. As junior mashgiach in Elmway Yeshivah, I’ll be doing my own thing, making my own way. And we’ll both be getting some distance from them.” He gestured across Ramat Hagolan Street. “Plus, free rent, right? Can’t beat free rent.”

Simmy nodded. “Hello, you’re right. You’re so, so right. I’m actually getting excited. I love Mimmy, but it’s hard being best friends with someone who can go to the spa whenever she wants and eat at Waffle Bar four times a week and buy imported dresses instead of doing laundry. We do need space, Laibel.”

They shared a long, exaggerated smile. The future was looking very bright indeed.

The En—

“Pssst. Laibel… someone’s knocking.”

“Just keep smiling, Simmy. This is the end.”

“No, seriously. Someone’s knocking. Go get the door.”

Simmy followed Laibel to the front door. He opened it a crack.

“Oh. Hi, Yossi,” Laibel said. “We’re just finishing up with something."

“Forgive the intrusion, I’m sorry to disturb.

"If it’s not a bother, can we have a word?” Yossi asked pleasantly.

Laibel glanced back at Simmy, who shrugged. He opened the door wider, and they saw Mimmy standing next to him, her blonde sheitel cascading in perfect air-dried waves around her beaming face.

“Oh, you’re not going to believe it, Simmy! It’s so amazing!” she said, laughing. “Tell them, Yossi! Tell them!”

Yossi cleared his throat and said,

“We were offered a shtelle in Elmway as well!

Being rav of a shul sounds really swell,

But the real joy will be living near you.

No need for goodbyes, because we’re moving too!”

Many thanks to Yaffa Ganz and Dina Rosenfeld for their indelible imprint on frum children’s literature and for graciously consenting to the use of their characters in this story. Your timeless tales continue to delight and inspire.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 632)