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Wednesday, May 03, 2006

A Typical Story

Last night my father told me I'd be going to shul this morning. It's a special davening, he said. How is it special, I asked. It's a special davening, he said, there's hallel. But how is it special, I asked. It's a special davening for Yom Ha'atzmaut, he said, there's hallel. But how is it special, I asked. There are some tehillim we say, he said. It's a special davening, he said. It's at 8:15, he said. The special breakfast is at 9:15, my mother said. We'll wake you up at 8.

This morning at 8:15, my mother woke me up. She said my father had woken me up fifteen minutes earlier; I didn't remember that. I got up. My parents left. I got dressed. I drank some Nestea. I started walking to shul.

It's been really hot out lately. It's only going to get worse, you know. I kept my head down as I walked so the light wouldn't hurt my eyes. I got to shul and went upstairs. I saw people coming in carrying their tefillin. I'd forgotten my tefillin. I started to walk home. I wasn't going to come back. It was really hot out. When I got home, I read a comic book 'til 9:15 then headed back.

The room was filled with tables, but no one was there yet- they were still davening. I sat down in a corner. People started coming in. When my father got there, I knew, he'd be angry. I waited for my father to show up. He came in, and started laying on the guilt. The breakfast is not the ikar, he said. I'll give you my tefillin and you can go upstairs and daven, he said. No, I said. (I had no excuse, but then he never had any good reason for me to come to begin with.) Then you can go home, he said. Breakfast is at home, he said. I stayed.

Everyone sat down. We found a table. I looked at the food. I went home.



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