The idea that had seemed so good half an hour earlier now seemed outlandish and weird
S
holom Wasser gently placed Kalman on top of a high stack of chairs near the wall and stroked the child’s face. “I’m going to continue dancing a little bit,” he said. “Will you be okay here?”
The little boy shrugged, reaching into the pocket of his vest for an orange lollipop, and nodded. He would be just fine.
Sholom hurried back into the circle, grabbing the shoulders of the first two people he saw and resumed singing. Edus Hashem ne’emanah, ne’emenah, machkimas pesi.
There was nowhere he would rather be, and nothing he would rather be doing than jumping up and down in a huddle of people who felt the same way he did, consumed with love for the Torah and happy to express it. The shul wasn’t one he was used to. Penina’s cousin’s neighborhood was different from his shul, but Simchas Torah is Simchas Torah.
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