"If not for my visits, they wouldn’t know about shul and Shabbos. They would know nothing"
In front of me is a heavyset grandmotherly woman, oozing warmth. There’s something about her that reminds me of my own grandmother. She pinches my baby’s chubby cheek with her bejeweled fingers as she strikes up a conversation.
“How old is he? Six months? I have a grandson that age. Haven’t seen him in nearly two months.” She whips out her phone from the pocket of her flowing tunic and shows off a picture composed of 90 percent nose.
I ooh and aah appropriately, and my son cranes his neck to get a glimpse.
“Going to visit my daughter and the grandkids. Can’t wait.”
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