Today at the meeting, someone said: "I was always jealous of friends who had ..."
I asked: What were you jealous of?
At that moment I was flooded with memories of the house I envied when I was a child.
At the Horowitz family home, the mother was always the calmest and most inclusive. She was a piano teacher, and I remember myself listening to her teaching casually with a soft American accent.
Even today I can take a virtual tour of that house, remembering the many dinners I ate at it.
The challahs that were prepared there before Shabbat long before it was fashionable to make challahs.
Amazing how our memory works through the senses.
Shira (Zalewski) narrow