WHAT WAS THERE TO SAY?

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 village
We came from a big city in America
They came from a smaller-than-small island offthe coast of Africa
We came in an airplane
They came on the wings of an eagle.
My daughter had declared she was marrying their
son.
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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Learn more about the author Grace Hollander

This material is ©1998 by Grace Hollander
3 Keren Haysod St., Ramat Ilan, Givat Shmuel, Israel 51905

Permission to distribute this material, with this notice is granted - with request to notify of use by surface mail
or at gracehol@internet-zahav.net.