You may not have made my shidduch, but you gave me hope
AT the ripe old age of 19, I eagerly stepped into the world of shidduchim, curious as to what lay ahead. I knew nothing of the journey awaiting me, the twists and turns that would take me to places I never knew existed.
Soon, though, I learned. I learned what it felt like to hurtle by so fast I could barely think, holding on with my last bit of strength, trying to make decisions that would shape my entire future. I learned what it felt like to crawl by so slowly, watching everyone else zoom by as I waited, hopefully, painfully.
I learned what it felt like to want, to want something so badly, but to be unable to acquire it because my hands were tied behind my back.
I learned what it felt like to hope, and then for that hope to come crashing down so hard and so fast that all I could do was turn my face to Heaven and cry.
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