Stitches across the Divide

I ask where she lives, but not whom she lives with, though the rumors abound. So much stepping around an elephant. But at least we are stepping. Some movement in the vacuous space between us. Is it going anywhere? Should it?

Nissan passes. I don’t mention Pesach. I only hope that in the apartment where she lives — about an hour away, she’s said — there’s a box of Manischewitz matzos.

The conversation peters out and I wonder if the hat will ever materialize.

One day there’s another e-mail. A sample. Appliqué options, flowers, and buttons. Honestly how much do I care about this hat? It’ll probably be too thick, too small. I could buy the same thing for a few pounds. But it’s not about that; I realize how much the connection means to her.