Only a month ago?
This morning a feeling of happiness engulfs me.
It is Rosh Chodesh Nissan and my Yeshiva boys are coming
home.
Most probably, by tomorrow my spirits will be lowered by some
giant heaps of laundry, generously deposited into the family
hamper. And if that will not suffice to dampen my excitement,
then the ripped hems and missing buttons and popped pajama
elastics are likely to do the trick. But right now I still
soar with anticipation. It has been such a long winter this
year. I wonder if they have grown some more. If their beards
have developed beyond the stubbly stage. How will they react
to some of the changes we have implemented in the house. In
my mind, I picture how all the grown-up bravado will suddenly
disintegrate when they interact with their younger siblings
in a sweet, childish way. I can already hear their voices.
"When is my dentist appointment?" (It was supposed to be an
hour ago.)
"Why didn't you wake me up this morning?" (I made three
attempts.)
"Did my chavrusa phone?" (Somebody did call and mumble
something unintelligible.)
"Have you washed my Shabbos trousers yet?" (How am I supposed
to know which of four pairs of black trousers he had in
mind?)
And then comes the chorus.
"What is there to e-a-t?"
It will reverberate throughout Bein Hazemanim. No matter how
many goodies I will stash away for them before they arrive.
No matter how many supplies we will reluctantly recruit from
the bakery and grocery. The amount of food available is non-
consequential. A bochur's stomach is a bottomless
pit.
"What is there to e-a-t?"
Nobody denies it when I cook a fresh, three course,
nutritious meal, the likes of which they probably have not
seen for a long time. They will serve themselves to seconds
too. But does'nt Halocha not presuppose that food
takes a minimum of three hours or So to digest? So why is it
that after half an hour, as I am just getting through those
dishes, I can hear it yet again?"
"What is there to e-a-t?"
Do not argue with them that it is Erev Pesach. That you
cannot store so much chometz since the freezer has
already been cleaned. That you do not want the risk of all
those crumbs around the house. The practial implications of
the Shulchon Oruch are lost on them. And do not try
plying them with a banana or a ricecake. Alas, those days are
over...
"What is there to e-a-t?"
And beware of Pesach, just beware. Because precisely those
bochurim who sing the chorus loudest are likely to
adopt the most stringent chumros when it comes to Yom
Tov. Nothing manufactured. No potato flour. And yes, Ma,
"What is there to e-a-t?"
Yet, last Bein Hazemanim the two returning bochurim
were welcomed by the third one who still lives at home, with
the following declaration:
"I want to make an announcement," he said solemnly, eying me
with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Mommy's food has
recently improved. The challa is actually good, the
cholent has become much better and the kugel is really
fest."
I was not sure whether to give him an old fashioned
potch or to laugh.
Well, I suppose, coming from the mouth of a yeshiva
bochur, I might as well take it as a compliment.
