The words Yom Tov were sparking an idea. “In fact, I think I have the most amazing idea. Wait till you hear it”
When my phone rings early Friday morning, I know it’s Dovi and Ruti calling. They’re still in Eretz Yisrael, six years and counting, but we usually manage to speak before Shabbos, despite the time difference. Usually Dovi says a quick hello, then each of the kids come on the line, and Ruti takes the phone to finish up.
“That was adorable, kein ayin hara,” I told my daughter-in-law one week, after two-year-old Leeba sang us some song in convoluted Hebrew that I couldn’t hope to understand, but applauded heartily anyway. “All of them. They must be getting so big. It’s how long since we saw you last?”
“We came for Succos, it was just before Miri’s chasunah,” Ruti said.
“Oh, yes, that’s right. Baruch Hashem for simchahs, right?” I laughed.
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