He thinks of a decade of little hands reaching up to snatch their prizes from the air. Fleeting warmth of loving and being loved, of sweetness and sugar and puffs of cotton candy that melt upon touch,The Candy Man,He thinks of a decade of little hands reaching up to snatch their prizes from the air. Fleeting warmth of loving and being loved, of sweetness and sugar and puffs of cotton candy that melt upon touch.
He hadn’t wanted to bring candy this year. He’d told Sheindy broke the news at the Motzaei Yom Kippur seudah and she’d listened quietly soup spoon paused midair and head cocked to one side. Just listened and when he’d finished she’d nodded and murmured something and continued eating.
T he Candy Man steps into the center of the pulsing teeming circle and raises his hand high. It works like magic every time.
He dangles his bait swinging it to the beat of Mah mah mah ahavti… Within five seconds he is surrounded.
Crowds of boys gather around him; some holding onto yarmulkes with one hand as they jump into the air to claim their prizes the younger ones scrambling on the floor for the leftovers and even a few bar mitzvah-aged boys slightly self-conscious in their oversized hats muttering a quick thank you as they cram Laffy Taffys and chocolate-coated wafers into bulging pockets. The Candy Man lets his hand fall leaning on the bimah and surveying the excitement.
Create a free account to keep reading.
