My daughter sat on the floor watching me get dressed. She was wearing her brother’s ripped t-shirt and her hair was bunched into a knotty knob on her head.
“That’s a pretty dress, Mama.”
Her eyes shone when she looked at me, tiny mirrors that reflected my face back to me in rainbow colors.
I shimmied out of the dress and tossed it on the growing heap of not-quite-right outfits.
“Thanks, honey. But pretty clothes aren’t what’s important, right?”
“Mmm hmmmm.”
“What is important, baby?”
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With school already started in some communities and about to start in others, can Hebrew school be far behind?
My
Israeli husband and I, along with our kids, made aliyah two months ago.
Our new neighborhood, a sleepy suburb of Tel Aviv, has been disrupted
several times a day by the sound of a long piercing siren. Our
3-year-old twins, born and raised in New York, refer to the sirens as “a
big fire truck,” but this time was different.