Each week, there’s a new mix of guests at the table. People her neighbor finds in shul, people who have nowhere else to go
S
he goes every week.
She hardly stops to think about it. It’s been years.
She takes it week by week. Shabbos by Shabbos.
Each week, there’s a new mix of guests at the table. People her neighbor finds in shul, people who have nowhere else to go.
They find their way to the Brooklyn apartment. Uncle Izzy and Tante Edith, they call them. Her neighbors are an older couple who’ve never had children, but at the Shabbos meals, they become parents to broken souls, collectors from Israel, bochurim who don’t go home for Shabbos because their fathers won’t let them in.
Create a free account to keep reading.
