If kids would vote for their favorite Yom Tov, I bet Chanukah would win. That’s what I’d vote for, at least. I know that some of you would be yelling “Purim! Purim!” That’s when all the candies and music and costumes and friendly baskets are exchanged. Still, I vote for Chanukah because I have Aunt Zelda’s Chanukah party.
“The grand prize” she announced later as she shooed away my sister Leah who kept looking longingly at the basement door. She didn’t let anyone down there. Only she was allowed to make secret trips and she kept going there with bags laden with hidden treasures hanging from her wrist bones.
“Aunt Zelda” I said “I can help. You don’t need to schlep. Just allow me to join you.”
“You stay right where you are” she warned. “An old lady like me has enough experience to do it all myself.”
Every night of Chanukah when Aunt Zelda would climb up the stairs to join our candlelighting she looked tired but happy. We gave her curious looks and went to peer at our invitations again. We’d have to wait another six days five … four … until the last day of Chanukah.
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