Moshe felt his heart beat faster. There was a big lump in his throat as he let his backpack slip from his hand. It thudded onto the floor and he swallowed hard.

“So, he’s—”

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on, or what any timeline might be. They just said we should try to spend a lot of time with him. We already are, but I was thinking maybe you’d like to go there after school from now on. It’s on the way home.”

“Of course. Zeidy’s the best. I’ll stop by.”

“Okay. You’re comfortable going by yourself to the nursing home? You’ve never been there without the rest of us.”

“Don’t worry, Mommy. I know exactly where to go. And I’m not so afraid.”

“Are you sure?”

“Y-yeah….”

“Okay, only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Moshe went straight to the nursing home after school the next day. Aryeh went with him. It was a beautiful day for biking, cold but not windy, the air was crisp, and the sky was gorgeous. The birds were chirping, the stillness in the air was only broken by the sound of their bicycle wheels whirring, and the boys enjoyed the challenging but rewarding push up the large hill that led to the nursing home.

“Good afternoon, boys. Who are we visiting?” The receptionist peered at them over the glasses perched at the edge of her nose. A bottle of hand sanitizer, face masks, and an open bag of chips lay on her desk, next to a mug filled with pens.

“Um, Mr. Silber, please.”

“Mr. Silber… room 288.”

“Right, thanks.”

The boys turned to leave, and the receptionist cleared her throat so loudly the boys thought the glass windows would break.

They turned back and her eyes slid over to the pack of masks laying on the desk.

“Oh.”

With masks snug across their nose and mouths, the boys started down the hallway. Moshe felt his skin growing cold as they passed people in wheelchairs. Some of the elderly people smiled, others stared vacantly at the ceiling. A strong odor of air freshener made their nostrils sting.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be here,” Moshe whispered as they began to pass the residents’ rooms. “It was different when I was with my family.”

“Why? Are you scared or something?”

“No.”

But Moshe was. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a certain panic beginning to spread through him. It got worse the longer it took to get to Zeidy’s room. Just when he was about to turn and race for the nearest exit, they came to room 288. The plaque outside the room read: “Mr. Michael Leibel Silber.”

Moshe suddenly found himself frozen in place.

“Moshe? We going in or no?”

“I-I can’t—”

“Come on, you got this. I’m coming with you.”

Aryeh knocked and then pushed the door open.

Zeidy was lying in bed, his eyes shut, a peaceful expression on his face as his chest rose and fell softly with each breath.

The boys closed the door behind them. Zeidy’s eyes fluttered open.

“Ah! Moshe! And this must be your friend, Nachi….”

“Hi, Zeidy. No, this is—”

“Don’t tell me! Your zeidy might be a bit forgetful, but I still remember your wonderful friends. Yojo? Naftali?”

“No, Zeidy, it’s—”

“Eli? Dovid? Yacko—”

“My name is Aryeh, Mr. Silber.”

“Right, of course it is.” Mr. Silber slid off the bed and slowly hobbled to the sink where he washed his hands. “Sit, my dear children. Take those two seats by the window.”

“How are you feeling, Zeidy?”

“Baruch Hashem. It’s a beautiful picture, this world of ours, and the best part about it is that I’m still in it!”

“Mr. Silber, Moshe let me listen to all those story tapes you produced back in the day. I’d love if you could tell us a story.”

“Aryeh! Zeidy’s too tired to tell us any stories!”

“No, I think I have enough energy for one last story,” Zeidy said.

“One last?” Moshe swallowed.

Mr. Silber hobbled back to his bed, his hands reaching for the wall as he swayed dangerously. The boys leaped up and helped him to the armchair by his bed.

“Moshe, why do you look so scared?”

“I-I’m fine….”

“A zeidy always knows. You must be scared to be in a place like this. I know it’s not easy. It scares me a bit, too!”

Moshe hesitated. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked in a rush.

“So your mother spoke to you.”

“I guess I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. I don’t want to lose you.”

Mr. Silber was silent, the sunlight from the window filling the deep creases on his kind, wrinkled face.

“There was another time, in another place, when someone else was also scared of the same thing that’s worrying you.”

Mr. Silber’s voice had changed, his tone now deep and dramatic. Like a magnet, the boys found themselves suddenly bound to his every word, their eyes glued to each movement of his hands and every shift in the expressions on his face as he spoke.

“There was a king, wise and powerful, who set off on the world’s wildest, most dangerous adventure, to seek what almost every human since time immemorial has desired to attain. But first, we must start from the beginning. And it all started with a shattered goblet of wine at a royal dinner party, and an old star gazer….”

to be continued… 

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 950)