I’d never seen the inside of a carpenter’s shop before — and this wasn’t just a carpenter’s shop. It was Papa’s shop!
We passed three shops, then four. At the fifth door on the left side, Papa stopped.
“Here,” he said, pointing at the closed door, “this is it.”
I looked at Papa hesitantly. I didn’t want to do anything that would upset him again. I wasn’t the seven-year-old he remembered. No — the years had passed and I had taken care of so much by myself. Even when the melamed in cheder was upset at me, or when Mama needed help with the little girls on the train. I had grown up, but somehow, Papa couldn’t see it. He thought I was still seven, as I had been when he left Kovno to follow the Alter to Chevron. I knew I needed to show him.
“Can I—?” I asked, pointing to the door. The excitement inside me was mounting, but I didn’t let it show. I’d never seen the inside of a carpenter’s shop before — and this wasn’t just a carpenter’s shop. It was Papa’s shop!
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