Every Day Above Ground (mallorys_camera) wrote,
Every Day Above Ground



I often wondered what my mother told herself about that money. I was dead to her, and she was so convinced of the venomous strength of her own wrath that she would never have allowed herself to imagine for a single moment that the money came from me.

I thought, perhaps, my mother envisioned herself as the heroine of a beautiful story:

One day, a millionaire, driving by the old Adath Jashurun synagogue on Rivington Street, had seen my mother leaving schul, her loveliness undiminished—even enhanced—by the tichel riding low over her forehead as well as by the poverty, the years of grinding labor, the birth and nurturance of five ungrateful children, the incompetence of a fumbling husband. Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies…

Being a millionaire, he was good at math and had done the calculations: Price far above rubies, divided by fifty-two weeks of the year, multiplied by all the remaining years of a long and righteous life…

Or perhaps it wasn’t a millionaire, but G-d Himself who’d chosen to reward her in this way. First step in a lengthy apotheosis! It would culminate in Shamayim, as Ruth, Esther, and Miriam scampered forth from the swirling ethers to claim my mother as their sister.

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