“Look, this is l’toeles.” Sarah leaned in, Bracha followed. “Mindy sees problems where there aren’t any. She makes mountains of molehills”
Come early, leave early, was Sarah’s preference. Her preference was also shalom bayis, though — and when it came to Chaim’s family, shalom always beat her preferred timing. That’s how she found herself sitting in the corner watching the gleeful chaos of attempted kite flying, ring tosses, and picture frame painting. It was a cute upsheren; Shmuel only had one mid-haircut meltdown and was actually pacified by a football. Bracha was a little worse for wear: oldest kid, first real party.
“Me and Moe are going to catch Minchah. I’ll be right back,” Chaim said, dipping in and out. Sarah shrugged. They’d leave even later, whatever.
Bracha was standing across the yard, eyes glazed. Sarah waved.
“You’re allowed to sit at your own party,” she said, patting the empty seat next to her.
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