Windows: A Place to Pray

D addy used to take me each week. Together we’d walk my hand in his to the shul across the main road.

It was early in the morning and no one else was up; just me and him. We didn’t go where we told everyone we davened. Instead we’d go to a place filled with different kinds of people and a curtain between the men and ladies which they’d open up when the rabbi would speak.

I sat on my own my legs dangling staring at the door as it opened and closed and people walked in. There was the lady with the hat that was bigger than two heads and the lady who always wore an orange bracelet and bright pink lipstick. I was a big girl but I still had to work out how to find the place in the siddur. When I had first started going I didn’t know what to expect and I’d squint at the lady in front hoping for help. But when I turned to the page she was on it wasn’t the song they were singing.

Sometimes I’d get up during the davening and let my legs carry me to the small library just off the main hallway. I’d curl up on the floor in the corner and read one of the Big Thick books with new words that I could use in my stories. Then at the end of davening I joined Daddy in the big room at the back for kiddush.