A Jewish child. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a Jewish child called Hanny. Breindy pictured her, sitting on her bed in Missouri, thinking Jewish thoughts, yearning for Hashem, not knowing Who she was yearning for.
Breindy hated goodbyes but it was time. It was definitely time. Meir their son-in-law had piled their luggage into the back of his minivan; the children were strapped happily into their car seats. Channy their daughter had come to escort them on their way darting somewhat nervous glances back toward the house where Baby Nechamy was sleeping peacefully in her crib in the nursery. Baby Nechamy’s arrival was what this trip had been all about. But now it was time for Breindy and Zev to say goodbye and go back to their own home in Jerusalem.
Let’s try and keep this cheerful Breindy told herself as she always did when it was time for goodbyes. “Ki b’simchah teitzei’u u’v’shalom tuvalun — If you go forth amid joy you will dwell in peace.” How can we inject some humor to lighten up this situation?
Channy looking rather woebegone was holding out her arms for a goodbye hug. Meaning to be funny Breindy gave her an exaggerated bear hug rocking her back and forth. Except that in the middle she somehow didn’t feel like letting go. I wish this moment could just go on and on and on. … Why do we have to go to the next moment? What’s wrong with this one? Was it because Channy was the youngest of their daughters? Not really. Breindy thought she’d feel the same with any of them.
“Mommy!” Channy protested laughing. “Ouch!”
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