Had I done right in inviting them? I wasn't sure. We lived in a villa in Savyon They lived in a hut in a smaller-than-village We came from a big city in America They came from a smaller-than-small island off We came in an airplane They came on the wings of an eagle. My daughter had declared she was marrying their I invited his parents to tea. To meet them To discuss the details of the wedding. Who was more nervous at this meeting? The doorbell rang. A woman about my age, But more lined in the face Smiling said "Shalom". I answered "Shalom" We went into the living room We sat down. Her daughter had come along to "interpret". What will Mother have Coffee or tea? "Anything is all right," said the girl. She smiled. I made tea A sandwich? cake? fruit? "Anything," said the girl. She smiled. Ask Mother where we should have the wedding. She doesn't care --- Any place. She smiled again and shook her head Yes." Any special food you would like to have? She shrugged her shoulders -- smiling. "She doesn't care," said the girl. How many people Do you think you'll be inviting? Here there was a bit of discussion That ended with - "Anything you say." I really didn't want it "anything I say." I wanted ideas Something concrete But "Whatever you do is allright, said the girl And the mother smiled consent, content. We met again at the Brit Milah She was busy in the kitchen, When we got to Be'er Sheva. She smiled her welcome I had brought meat vegetables, cake We put them on the table And began slicing and decorating platters. We worked together. I smiled. She smiled. It was a busy morning. It was a happy morning. The baby came in Was passed from hand to hand He was made a son in Israel In a way we both understood. Our son! We both smiled. What hadn't been said? I do not know Everything, I think. Then there was the time Our little granddaughter Was so sick in the hospital Hovering between Life and death. She sat on the sofa, Waiting Her hands in her lap Waiting And I sat on the sofa Waiting My hands in my lap Waiting The prayer Behind our eyes The same prayer Waiting for word From the hospital Waiting for the same word. When I saw her again She was sitting on the straw mat of mourning Mourning their father Her children sat beside her On the floor on the mat. She looked up at me As I mumbled "Baruch Dyan Emeth" With dulled eyes She looked at me. I looked back. What was there to say? |
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