Dreams Come True

I said to myself, oh, no— I can't write a book

Dreams Come True
I said to myself, oh, no — I can’t write a book

Come To My Birthday Party

When: 13 Tammuz, Tuesday night!

Where: Sam Bagel’s

Why: ’Cause it’s my fortieth, and I want to share it with friends.

On the big day we all sat at a long table outdoors, under a tent at Sam’s. Me, at the head. I looked around at my special friends, and I thought about how quickly time has passed — and, baruch Hashem, how much we’ve accomplished.

Dina sat to my right. I remember when she told me she’d signed up for a sewing course, about ten years ago. She was learning to hem and make cuffs. Today Dina designs wedding gowns from scratch. She’s got a room in her home that’s all hers, with a large worktable and two sewing machines — and a photo album chockful of gowns that she designed, created, and sent on their way.

My friend Penina adapted a method for helping students with auditory processing disorders. For eight years she’s been developing, expanding, and improving on her method. She’s become a teacher of teachers.

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Next installment → Flashback: Dreams Come True, Issue 108