Chapter 14

Chapter 14

That night, I was not in bed until well past midnight. Our house had filled with grandparents, a little more worn and less spirited, and with all of my friends suppressing their excited energy into contained whispers, all the men in our dining room and the women in our kitchen. Mrs. Klar stood near my bubby at the Formica kitchen counter set out with trays of fancy bite-size cream cakes, her hands over her the little pooch on her lower stomach as she bent over to listen to the Wertheimer Bubby report on her latest ailment and the new black wig her grandchildren had plopped on her head, and what did they want of her? I smiled at Mrs. Klar when I moved among the crowd, holding Chana’la’s hand and whispering: Remember the days?
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