Children – Holding Hands Forever

October 17, 2020October 17, 2020

The Pomegranate

“It can be scary, ugly or look yummy. It’s like life.”️

My 5 1/2-year-old and I just cut open a pomegranate for the first time. In our family’s first Sukkah. It took a while to get the hang of it and realize that you don’t cut a pomegranate open like a typical fruit. And it’s not quick.

By hand, you peel back layer after layer of ugliness to discover hundreds of sparkling sweet treasures. The most abundant sections with dozens and dozens of jewels are hidden away and buried deep behind the yuck and the ugly: where you least expect them.

I couldn’t describe this aha moment more perfectly than my kiddo does here. In a time of way too much scary and ugly, he found sweetness. I’m sharing because we could all use some.

And to think that I was able to capture this child teaching his parent on video; the stained table and sticky hands were way worth the forever moment.

December 20, 2019December 20, 2019

Rain or Shine

As we inched along through the congested morning rush hour traffic and cold rain hit the windshield and winds that were charging hard against the trees seemed to be more blustery than breezy, I said to my kids, “Ugh-what a yucky day.”

Silence.

After a few seconds, my almost-five-year-old piped up with this whammy:

“Mommy, you really shouldn’t say things like that. It’s not nice. Instead, you really should say ‘thank you.’ God made this rain so the trees and plants can drink and grow. They need it, and God made it for them!”

Pause.

I turned around to look at this kid. (It was a red light and traffic wasn’t moving.) This remarkable child rightfully put me in my place and corrected me.

The stormy morning became sublime. And glorious.

He changed my view. My lens. I promise you I now saw rays of sun streaming through pockets of the cloudless grey sky, like radiant lightsabers. I now realized that the trees were swaying with the gentle wind. I now felt appreciative of the cooled temps of this Florida December morning.

“You’re right, D. You’re 100% right. I am thankful that God created this morning to help the trees and plants grow. And I’m thankful for you for reminding me of that.”

“And the flowers!” he said, again pointing out that our kids always see so much more than we do.

Thanks to this kiddo, it wasn’t only the trees that grew this morning.

October 6, 2019October 6, 2019

The Secret Ingredient

My mother, second from left, reunited with her sister and parents upon their arrival to the United States of America from Hungary. They arrived to America December 1956; photo taken June 1957. Statue of Liberty. — My mother, second from left, reunited with her sister and parents upon their arrival to the United States of America from Hungary. They arrived to America December 1956; photo taken June 1957.

My mom’s brisket brought us together. It still does. (Even though my sister and I have taken turns being the “family vegetarian,” giving up meat throughout the decades, and ironically, our mom fills that family role today.)

I look back on my blissful American childhood and find delicious memories of holiday tables, a crowded house of friends (extended family was scarce in Miami) and table-spreads of my mom’s incredible cooking. To this day, she insists she hates to cook, but I know she always secretly loves the outcome.

My mom is the daughter of Holocaust survivors. She moved to the United States from Hungary at the age of nine. Rather, her family fled further persecution. She says they hurriedly left with nothing but a handful of green apples. But 63 years later, it’s clear that they carried so much more with them: the value of connecting generations, the commitment of carrying on traditions, the universal sign of love that is feeding your family…especially important for people who were starved for years and whose children, spouses and parents died in concentration camps.

My mother’s brisket means loved ones around a table – in times of celebration and in times of sorrow. The savory aroma and velvety slices that melt into the tomatoey gravy mean full bellies and full hearts. The loving nudge for me to “take just a bite” means ending my many years as a vegetarian with the yummy taste of childhood to nourish the new baby growing inside of me.

Now that I’m a mom and a wife, I’ve attempted to make her brisket myself, but it’s yet to be as good as hers. My mom’s brisket is famous in the community. People who have jumped at the honor of an invite to her table know it. People who have received the gift of a home delivery in their times of need love it. People who have attempted to replicate the recipe have come close but have not perfected it like she has. There must be a secret ingredient.

And it’s that secret ingredient that sweetens my memories of the past and my dreams of the future and brings them all together…all unbelievably rich with flavor.

May 26, 2019May 26, 2019

You May Think She is Tiny.

May 12, 2019May 12, 2019

My Heart is Their Where.

Inspired by Mother’s Day 2019 and the miracles I am blessed to have upon this one year anniversary of publishing this site, trying to make a dream come to life

July 26, 2018

When We Will Not See

“Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see.” -Neil Postman

My babies.

You didn’t even know that I took this picture of you.

You pose for pictures all the time with silly smiles and savvy style. I really, really like those shots and even taking the selfie version of them with you. But it’s the moments like this one – that you didn’t even realize was happening – that I love the most.

Here you were waiting for a swim lesson, which was running late. It was hot out there at the pool. So hot. Miami in summer hot. In my head, I was doing the whining and complaining I always beg you not to do. You were so patient.

Picture-perfect:

Big Sis put her arm around Little Brother. On her own while we waited. Just because. Just because she was reminding him not to be nervous for his lesson and that she’d be right there.

And he edged in closer to her. Just because. Just because he was reminding her that he likes his view from there with her arm around him and that he’d be right there.

You’ve been like his second little mama since the day he was born. And you’ve been her partner in fun and kindness (and crime) since the day you arrived.

And now the only roles we want you two to share are best friends forever. It’s ok for you to argue and debate and fight. They say it’s healthy and good for you. But also laugh with, protect and love on one another. You have the gift of each other. And the gift Daddy and I pray for in return is that you’ll always have each other’s backs, even (especially) when it’s the time we will not see.

Tag: Children