After 13 years, why couldn’t her parents come to terms with the fact that they’d chosen to make their lives in Eretz Yisrael?
“Give me,” Ayala said, as she took the toy car from Sruli’s hands.
The young boy looked up at her, brows creased.
“Do you want it? Say, ‘give me.’”
His mouth opened… and her phone rang. Muttering in frustration, Ayala jumped up off the therapy floor to turn off the ringer; this was the fourth time they’d been interrupted this session.
“Sorry, I should’ve done that at the beginning,” she said to Sruli’s mother.
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