My brother-in-law doesn’t appear very emotional about discovering this long-lost brother. He’s still hondling, and Mr. Kushinski still isn’t budging
My son groans. My husband takes out a sefer. I run through the kitchen flipping snack bags, gum, and old Pesach cookies into a shopping bag
A moment before the last bell of the year, I look out at the girls who were mine since September.Who are mine still for a few seconds more, before they are claimed by summer and next year and a new roster of teachers and subjects. I’m still talking, explaining when they’ll find out their grades
They are trusting, these girls, baring vulnerabilities, some in front of the group, some just on paper
You may look back on the year and wonder, what difference did I make? Whose life did I touch? And will anyone remember?
Why else would Hashem take the trouble to arrange such wild circumstances to ensure I buy this book?
