Ohhhhh boy. Bribery at its best. I slip on the bracelet, refusing to allow it to feel like a very trendy handcuff

I

wave goodbye to the Grossmans and exit the Plaza practically skipping. Why does receiving packages from Ma back in Monsey make me feel like I’m back in sem? I wait at least a block before finding a random bench on King George Street to sit and examine the contents of the very large Amazing Savings tote bag my parents’ neighbors schlepped for me. That’s the test of true friendship: Will you bring random stuff to Israel for various relatives and acquaintances? Judging from the weight of the bag, the Grossmans passed with flying colors. I open the bag, owning the fact that I look like a homeless person getting comfortable on a public bench and totally not caring.

Yes, three boxes of Caramel Grab1s! At 42 shekel a box in the makolet versus $5.99 in Evergreen, it’s my most requested item. Then there’re the five pairs of Memoi black tights, a Kirkland onion powder, Montreal steak spice, four boxes of Gushers, four packs of Sour Lips, four boxes of Playmobil, cookie cutters in the shapes of hamantaschen and groggers, the pair of shoes I’d ordered, two sweaters Ma thinks I’ll like but are probably too small, and a small bag from Molly’s jewelers. Well, that’s unexpected. I take out a black velvet box, more confused than ever, and crack it open to find a stunning bracelet with a white stone butterfly set in. Ma knows I love butterflies, but what on earth? My birthday isn’t until Succos. There’s a letter in the bag.

Thank you for all you do for our mother. This is just a small token of our appreciation.

—Baruch and Faigy

Ohhhhh boy. Bribery at its best. I slip on the bracelet, refusing to allow it to feel like a very trendy handcuff. This feels a bit manipulative. Whatever, it’s not like I’m going to suddenly have more time in my life to visit Baruch’s mother — I already go once a week — so I guess it doesn’t really matter. I gather the goodies back into the bag and head to the bus stop to catch the #77 home to Ramat Eshkol.

I stop in the doorway of my apartment. Whenever I leave in the middle of the day and then walk into full-blown Levine-time, there’s a sort of magic that drapes itself over the scene — magic that I feel very disconnected from. Henny and Shira are coloring at the table, Yanky is hanging off the couch doing a Rubik’s Cube, and Pinny has his cars lined up on the coffee table in size order. They just look so perfect, so angelic. I lean on the doorway until Pinny spies me. “Mommy!”

The magic haze disappears and the scene sharpens. The girls are getting marker on the dining room table, Yanky is leaving footprints on the couch, and the entire house is in disarray. I detach myself to change into a tichel, and head to the kitchen to start dinner.