Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Seth went to his father for every other shabbes shortly before sundown. He stood at the door in his white shabbes shirt and pressed pants, an expensive argyle sweater, and shiny black shoes, with his Elmo backpack that held a blanket and stuffed Woofy strapped over his shoulders, waiting for his uncle to pick him up. When the light blue minivan pulled up, he ran to its automatically opening door. It moved aside to reveal the faces of two happy, squealing cousins, and a curious baby in the car seat. I waved goodbye through the square window above the heavy door, and then turned around to an empty house. I lit candles, sang “Ana Hashem,” the song that had become my candle-lighting blessing, my musical connection to my mother’s old comfort. Then I crept into bed with a book and a bag of popcorn, and got crumbs in between the pages, the sheets, my bra. I read and highlighted, made notes, slept in a tangle of sheets and pinching kernels, woke up to shuffle the sheets, slept some more, ate some more.
To view this content, you must be a member of Frieda's Patreon at $5 or more
Unlock with Patreon

Post A Comment