I know that this may sound silly, but the truth is, I can't
stand my challa board. It will become clear to you how silly
this really is when you realize that I have the same standard
challa board that you may have, or have seen over and over
again.
It didn't start off that way. When we first got married, one
of the very `practical' gifts that we got as a young
penniless couple embarking on aliya was a cheese board for
all the wine and cheese parties that we would be making over
the coming years. With the natural wood surface, lucite frame
and even a lucite triangle shaped pocket, why, to us it was
the perfect challa board. Cut pieces of challa went into the
pocket and pages that the children brought home from gan
could fit under the frame. Besides, it made a great
conversation piece. Slowly, with time, as most things do in
our house, it started to fall apart.
First, off came the lucite pocket — not fixable. Then
came the frame that held it up from the table. My husband
valiantly fixed it over again, even joking that he could
start a business with his experience. At some point, that,
too, could no longer be fixed. Now we were left with just a
piece of natural wood. At least, it was different than the
standard board. When that, too, broke into two pieces, it got
recycled in with the wooden blocks. We would need a new
challa board.
The day that we finally replaced our challa board started off
as a wonderful morning. As my husband had started getting
Fridays off, occasionally we would take out time to spend
together. A little quality time, as they say, just us and our
one-year-old going to the local bagel place. Afterwards,
feeling like a newly married couple, we thought we'd head off
to the nearby housewares store and finally purchase a new
challa board. There it was, that same board that you see
everywhere — certainly no conversation piece, but at
this stage in my life, it would do.
Feeling rather lighthearted, my husband called over to me as
to what else we could use. Finally we brought our purchases
over to the counter to pay. Suddenly, the whole atmosphere
changed. Everything was quiet. The man at the counter and the
woman in front of us were tensely listening to the radio. A
bomb had gone off in the Machne Yehuda shuk. The color of the
woman in front of me completely drained away. Her 19-year-old
son was out doing some errands and she wasn't quite sure
where.
To make a long story short, the casualties were once again
miraculously small. Although for some, not small enough. The
woman's son was not one of the victims. After hearing the
initial report, upon coming home, I picked up my
Tehillim and said a few chapters. By the time Shabbos
came, we knew that the situation had not been too
disasterous. Yet, as I put my new challa board in its place,
something didn't feel right.
I couldn't forget that look of helpless fear on the woman's
face. Not only did my enjoyment of our new household object
become diminished, but also my feelings of the day in
general. A small outing that started off so carefree and
relaxed ended up being bathed in worry and concern.
I guess this new challa board reminds me that we never really
know what is around the very next corner. This very
unsettling feeling is why I don't like my challa board.
