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Chanuka cast was so full that this article `fell out'.
But its message is always timely, we're sure you'll agree.
The Empyting Cart
by Rifca Goldberg, Tzefas
The supermarket is more crowded than usual today, the
Thursday right before Shabbos Chanuka. I jostle with the
others trying to get down the aisles, trying to reach each
item I need. My shopping cart is getting more and more
weighted down. "Yes, I'll get two packages of cornflakes,
what with all of the kids home from gan or coming home
early." A can of apple juice vies with a can of pineapple in
the cramped shopping cart. "Where am I going to put these
bags of rice and flour?" Things are being balanced too
precariously on this cart. "So very full. Just like my life,
baruch Hashem!" I muse to myself. "I better get
another cart."
As I wend my way down another aisle, I pass the diapers and I
stop. Diapers. The last few weeks have been difficult, but
rewarding. My baby, two and eleven months, is now completely
toilet trained. And now, is it possible? I don't need to buy
diapers this week!
The woman behind me taps me with her cart. "Sorry," I mutter
as I continue down the aisle, get a new cart and head towards
the vegetables. The heady smell of fresh clementinas and
pomellas floats around me. "I need eggplants, carrots,
onions, and of course, potatoes for the latkes." This cart,
too, is rapidly filling up. I hear a squeak behind me and
turn to see a carriage with a newborn baby inside. She's so
tiny. So beautiful. I look at her and just want to pick her
up. My back aches just thinking of picking up another baby,
but my heart aches just thinking of not.
I push my cart to the meat section. "I've paid my dues," I
think to myself wryly, as I try to find the turkey shnitzel.
Seven kids, one mentally retarded, including twins. My back
will never be the same. Neither will my waistline! All the
sleepless nights. All the intense hopes, worries and prayers
over each child. But still... I didn't buy diapers this
week.
Last month, my younger sister came to visit from America.
"Here," she said frantically, plopping her five-month- old
into my arms. "Hold him for a few minutes, please?" Then she
went running to help her one-and-a-half- year-old get
untangled from the phone cord and then calm her wailing two-
and-a-half-year-old who had tripped over one of the bags of
pampers my sister had brought. I felt so thankful that I
didn't have that scenario in my life right now. Then a tiny
finger wriggled in my hand and I lifted up this small
wonderful person, this whole world. With intelligent eyes. I
held him close to me - hard. He gasped and then giggled and
pulled on my ears. He smelled of dewy softness and gentleness
and purity. I didn't mind giving him back to his mother,
though. I enjoyed and let go. This seems to be the new focus
in my life these days. Knowing that I've enjoyed and knowing
that I have to let go.
The rush of people in the store is making me feel
claustrophobic. I barely manage to reach a couple of bottles
of wine and wedge them in with my groceries. As I head
towards the checkout line, I brush against the kipa
clips on a stand. Should I buy them? I wonder, touching them
gingerly, listening to the metallic clinking through the
cellophane wrapper. Maybe I have enough to last four more
weeks until his upsherren. On the other hand, these
clips get lost so quickly, as if they were disposable. I put
the package into my cart. Until now, he's been my baby. Even
when he stopped drinking his bottle, he still had his long
curls. My baby. Although the diapers are gone, the curls
remain. But one more month, only one more month, and the
curls will be put in envelopes to send to the grandparents in
America. "Don't be melodramatic!" I scold myself. "He'll be
just as cuddly and sweet the day after his first haircut as
he was the day before it." But it won't be the same. I
finally reach the black conveyer belt and begin to relieve my
carts of their strained cargo. But one question keeps tugging
at my conscious. Why? Why do my overflowing shopping carts
seem so empty. Just because I didn't buy diapers this
week?
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