Me: Tell me the truth. Do you find this whole support group thing productive in any way?
It took a full hour from when “L’shanah Haba’ah” crashed to an end until the mitzvah tanz began. By that time, Malkie was sprawled over three chairs, fast asleep. Hindy, Zissi, and their cousins were twirling in their gowns in the nearly empty hall.
Pessie sat down between her sister Devoiry and her sister-in-law Fraidy, kicked off her heels, and wriggled her finally free toes.
A tray of chocolate was passed around, but Pessie declined. She gestured at the buffet of hot dishes stationed near the men and marveled. “I don’t know how people can eat cholent at this hour.”
Fraidy chuckled. “The men seem perfectly capable.”
The badchan wound down Zeidy Hartstein’s grammen — “Shreits aleh der zeide fun di kallah, er geit, er geit…” — and all the Hartsteins stood up as their grandfather took Suri’s hands and shuffle-danced in place.
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