When things go right, is it because WE are in control?
And when they don't, is it always our fault? Keeping a
proper perspective, we welcome a newcomer to our writers'
ranks.
Malka knew it was going to be an "interesting" day; the
turtledoves were cooing too early this morning, causing her
Modeh Ani to be said at least an hour earlier than
usual.
"Didn't they get their nest together yet? Can't they get on
with their morning's work without waking me up? Were their
babies teething all night? Gezel sheina! What do they
care that I'm overworked and need every millisecond of sleep
I can get," she grumbles to herself groggily. She enters the
kitchen and has soon spilled 3/4 of a bag of sugar on the
floor. Her last one. Well, I may not be able to bake a
cake this morning," she mused, "but I've got enough left for
at least three cups of coffee. I may need them..." On an
open kitchen cabinet door, Malka manages to lightly hit her
head. No injuries this time, thank G-d, but her right eye is
twitching.
"Ima," her daughter calls, and hesitates as she enters the
kitchen, "my teacher wants you to write a note saying that
you know that I forgot to bring a book to school three times
already." Malka wants to reprimand her, but instead, scoops
her up and gives her a big kiss.
"Mamale, your teacher says that you're doing much better.
I'm very proud of you. But you still must remember to bring
your books." Not expecting this, Shoshi sits down with a
smile to eat her breakfast. After a moment, she comments,
"You know, Ima, you spell yodaat with an
ayin."
"Yes, I know," her mother stands corrected. "She sent the
last note back with the correction." A good thing she
doesn't mark mothers.
After a light cleanup to give her home a semblance of order,
Malka is poised and ready to tackle her weekly vegetable
order. As she waits for the bus, she finds herself gazing at
the clear blue sky. The cumulus clouds can take their
time to pass by, while I must rush from place to place.
Still, they begin to have a calming effect on her, reminding
her of another time and place. The ocean: waves rushing to
the shore, the gentle rustling of palm leaves -- Hashem's
natural tranquilizers. Do we ever take time out to fully
appreciate how really beautiful the world is? After 120
years we will have to account, not only for what we said and
did, but also for appreciating Hashem's creations properly.
He made this world beautiful for us.
Her daydreaming is abruptly interrupted by the arrival of
the bus. Malka climbs in, only to mistakenly flash her
Telecard to the driver, instead of her monthly bus pass. He
eyes her suspiciously in his mirror as she proceeds to sit
down and then correct her mistake.
Arriving at the vegetable store, Malka inspects the apricots
and decides to consider another fruit instead. Her mind on
other things as well, she is taking an inordinate amount of
time perusing the container of plums. "Please don't remove
the netting," says the storekeeper pleasantly but firmly.
"It's the whole container or nothing."
Too late. Awoken from her reverie, Malka drops the container
and plums run for cover in all directions. A friend bends
down to help her retrieve them and they share a smile. She
needs that (the coffee was not enough). Just look at
those plums. Do I have a recipe for compote? Then, as
she regains her balance, the storekeeper is right in front
of her again. She stands there with all of the reclaimed
plums in a container sans the net. She tries to explain, in
her best Hebrew, that, in fact, she didn't remove the net,
"You see, it just fell off when I took it..." He looks at
her just the way the bus driver did. Are they related?
Now Malka is selecting potatoes from a hole in the twenty
kilo netted potato sack. It is precariously perched on top
of several other sacks of potatoes. As she proceeds to pick
out the best, a bunch of them start tumbling out of the bag
and Malka finds herself bending down again. This time her
friend is nowhere to be seen. "I must remember to stay away
from anything in nets," she thinks to herself, feeling for a
moment like a fish. If it weren't for gravity, the potatoes
would have just floated to the table with the cash register,
she imagines. Feigning a calm appearance, she checks out,
muttering an embarrassed "Toda rabba" as she rushes
out the door. "Whew, boruch Hashem I'm out of there.
The rest of the day has just got to be better," she
hopes.
Next on her list is the bakery. Malka quickly enters to make
her purchase, pays, and turns to leave, only to be told by a
young man that she has taken the money that he had just put
down on the counter. Malka is caught by surprise. "What?"
she replies, choosing her words carefully (since most of her
vocabulary has now chosen to desert her). "Your money?"
"Yes," he says. "You took the money I just put down for my
purchase." Oh, so it wasn't her change. She retrieves it
from her purse and says a very convincing, "Slicha,"
hoping he will forgive her. She waits for HER change and
quickly makes an exit, leaving her sunglasses behind. As she
never goes outside without them, Malka is immediately
blinded by the sunlight and returns to the store, to find
that they are just where she left them. One mark for the
credit side today.
Sight restored, Malka heads for home. As she enters her
apartment, the phone is already ringing. "Hello," says the
overfriendly voice. "This is Shaindy Cohen. Could you please
show me that apartment in Har Nof again?"
"Come again?"
"Yes, I want to. You know, the apartment you showed me two
weeks ago."
Malka's mind is now racing between starting lunch and
remembering who this person on the phone is and what she's
talking about. "Sure, Shaindy, right... Ummm, could you
refresh my memory?" Actually, Malka could use a new memory,
but a refreshed one would just have to do! "Where do I know
you from?"
"It's Shaindy Cohen." It suddenly dawns on her that this
person thinks that she's a real estate agent. "Oh, I just
got it straight. You want the other Greenspan, not me."
"Does that mean that you won't show me the apartment?"
There's a knock at the door. A chossid is collecting
money for something/one. And if you think the speed of light
is fast, then you just haven't heard this man speak. Malka
disappears into another room to get some money. She gives
her donation to the grateful chossid, who rattles off
a string of blessings. She answers "Omein" and then
asks that he bless her own request -- that her daughters
marry talmidei chachomim. (When the time comes, of
course.)
By this time, Shoshi has already returned from school.
"Ima," she says excitedly. "Today after tefilla, my
teacher gave me a special sticker because I davened
bekavana! And I was the only one in the class who got
one!"
"That's wonderful!" exclaims Malka. "What nachas!"
Suddenly her day looks different to her. It was far from
just "interesting;" it was really special. How can a person
let the little inconveniences of life get the better of her?
"This is the best thing that has happened to me all day!"
gushes Malka to her daughter, and to the four walls.
And you know what? She is right!
