Even if the stories were true — and the people outside his family insisted they weren’t — how could his own family be the ones to spread those tales?
It was the day of my daughter Gitty’s sixth birthday. She was going to be having a party in her first-grade class and the morah had called me to make sure that I could be there at 12.
Gitty left the house that morning proudly toting her bag full of pekalach. “Mommy you’re coming to my party right?” she asked when the car pool came to pick her up.
“Of course darling ” I assured her.
In the meantime I went out to do some errands. My last stop was in a department store where I needed to return something. When I glanced at my watch after taking care of the return it was 11 o’clock — too late to go back home and too early to head over to the school. So I decided to walk around the department store for half an hour.
I browsed through the clothing department the housewares department the outdoors department but I barely noticed what I was seeing. Instead my mind automatically wandered to all the stresses in my life.
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