Dear Ima and Abba

Dear Ima and Abba,

I’ve never been that great at calling you on a regular basis. Life is hectic, and the time difference makes it nearly impossible for us to catch each other at a mutually good hour.

So most weeks, when my Friday afternoon conversation with Ima starts off with a good dose of Jewish guilt (“How come you haven’t called me all week?”), I know I deserve it.

But in the past few weeks, I’ve found myself calling you so much more — maybe you’ve noticed? — just to let you know we’re okay. I mean, as okay as we can be right now.

When we speak, it’s not the time for me to vent about the loud boom we heard, the one that sent us into the hallway while my cupcakes were burning. It’s not the time for me to mention that my kids aren’t sleeping well at night, and neither am I. It’s not even the time to start praising my students for their amazing aid to displaced families, because you want to hear about happier things, like simchahs and nice weather and cute stories about the two-year-old.