Two tiny words to bridge chasms, repair rifts, mend hearts. Five women, and the ways they said,
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As told to Leah Gebber
I
t was an ordinary message that came through my website: We were both ostensibly strangers. Her youngest son was getting married she wrote and she wanted a handmade kesubah for the chasunah. They always write that their youngest. It’s like their way of warning me that their emotional barometer reads dangerously high. It also means that while with their other children they economized this time they want it done right. And right means a custom-designed hand-illustrated kesubah the text written by a sofer. Parchment no less.
I felt a little thrill. There’s a special joy in creating a unique piece allowing your work to reflect that expansiveness inside. In letting myself experiment with design inks perhaps even some gold leaf.
I suggested setting up a conference call with her and the chassan and kallah. No go: this was a surprise gift — she’d deal with me directly. A little unusual but okay. Then as I took down her details little sparks of memory flashed in my mind.
This wasn’t just another ubiquitous Feldman. This was Feldman from Pine Grove. And this was the youngest Feldman a boy. It all fit.
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