I Have Two Married Children!!
Hello? Are you there? Are you still there?
I have been away for--good lord--one whole month!! I have not had the time to post, although I have had some access to a computer (this one being my older son's; the one who is not yet married; but he has a serious girlfriend. . . ), my time on it was spent in practical and necessary matters: searching for apartments, going through RSVP lists for the wedding, checking for hasa'ot rentals (transportation rentals) to get far-flung guests to the wedding, etc. And that, sporadically, when I wasn't helping with my grandchildren, or running around (eh, more like limping, actually) shopping for Shabbat or calling various people/caterers/venue-managers regarding wedding preparations.
Well, it's a done deal. My younger son is married. To the Israeli girl I introduced him to at our home in the States.
OMIGOSH: My Younger Son is Married!!!! That can't be. No, no--he was just born: there he is, actually lifting his head up from the table where the doctor placed him, right after he slipped out (yes, really--almost in the elevator) completely encased in his amniotic sac and colored a deep purple. here he is: a chubby-cheeked toddler, smiling at me from the brown koorsah (easy chair) in the living room in our old house, while I photograph him holding his new baby sister, born just two months before his third birthday (that photo is in a family photo collage on the stairway wall); wait, he is a skinny eight-year-old. . . wait, now it's his bar-mitzvah on Purim (13 Adar II, his actual b'date) and we are having the celebration at our old house in a big tent in our yard, many of the guests having arrived still in their Purim costumes (I think my son was Darth Vader) - here he is at sixteen putting on a show with his aforementioned younger sister for Color War in their high school; he is singing zmirot and harmonizing with his siblilngs at our Shabbat table at home. . .wait, he is married??!
This is so common, so ordinary, so human, so cliche --and still so personal and so deep:
Where has the time gone? How is it possible that I feel as if I have lived several lifetimes? It feels so long, and yet at the same time, it feels so short. . . the blink of an eye. . .
How is it possible that a microscopic speck has grown into a wonderful man?
Mah rabu ma'asecha Hashem.*
There is so much more that I want to say, but it is a jumble; my thoughts just won't organize.
I am overwhelmed.
*How great are your deeds G-d.
I have been away for--good lord--one whole month!! I have not had the time to post, although I have had some access to a computer (this one being my older son's; the one who is not yet married; but he has a serious girlfriend. . . ), my time on it was spent in practical and necessary matters: searching for apartments, going through RSVP lists for the wedding, checking for hasa'ot rentals (transportation rentals) to get far-flung guests to the wedding, etc. And that, sporadically, when I wasn't helping with my grandchildren, or running around (eh, more like limping, actually) shopping for Shabbat or calling various people/caterers/venue-managers regarding wedding preparations.
Well, it's a done deal. My younger son is married. To the Israeli girl I introduced him to at our home in the States.
OMIGOSH: My Younger Son is Married!!!! That can't be. No, no--he was just born: there he is, actually lifting his head up from the table where the doctor placed him, right after he slipped out (yes, really--almost in the elevator) completely encased in his amniotic sac and colored a deep purple. here he is: a chubby-cheeked toddler, smiling at me from the brown koorsah (easy chair) in the living room in our old house, while I photograph him holding his new baby sister, born just two months before his third birthday (that photo is in a family photo collage on the stairway wall); wait, he is a skinny eight-year-old. . . wait, now it's his bar-mitzvah on Purim (13 Adar II, his actual b'date) and we are having the celebration at our old house in a big tent in our yard, many of the guests having arrived still in their Purim costumes (I think my son was Darth Vader) - here he is at sixteen putting on a show with his aforementioned younger sister for Color War in their high school; he is singing zmirot and harmonizing with his siblilngs at our Shabbat table at home. . .wait, he is married??!
This is so common, so ordinary, so human, so cliche --and still so personal and so deep:
Where has the time gone? How is it possible that I feel as if I have lived several lifetimes? It feels so long, and yet at the same time, it feels so short. . . the blink of an eye. . .
How is it possible that a microscopic speck has grown into a wonderful man?
Mah rabu ma'asecha Hashem.*
There is so much more that I want to say, but it is a jumble; my thoughts just won't organize.
I am overwhelmed.
*How great are your deeds G-d.
Comments
gorgeous post.. hope he sees it
mazal tov
lots of nachas
-I am overwhelmed by all your wonderful comments--thank you so much!