Next Year in Israel
“I thought it would cheer Mia up. As we sat there and ate, I tried to get her to smile. I waved my pita under her nose. “Tastes almost as good as pumpkin pie.”
She wouldn’t smile. “It’s depressing. Today’s a normal day here.”
It was bizarre to be eating falafel on Thanksgiving. For a moment, I missed home. Not school—I’d never miss that. But my house and my family. Mom at the kitchen counter, still in her bathrobe, dicing onions and celery for her “famous” stuffing. She never got up before eleve...n AM on Thanksgiving, and lollygagged around the house in her pajamas.
“Do you have Thanksgiving with your mom or dad?” Mia asked.
“Both. I eat with Mom and my cousins on Thursday and go to Dad’s on Friday.”
“Two Thanksgivings,” she said, as if it were a shekel she found on the ground.
“Yeah, Dad has a second Thanksgiving. His friends bring their leftovers, so he doesn’t have to cook. Do your parents have a big production?”
“It’s huge. My grandparents, aunts, and uncles come.MoreLess
She wouldn’t smile. “It’s depressing. Today’s a normal day here.”
It was bizarre to be eating falafel on Thanksgiving. For a moment, I missed home. Not school—I’d never miss that. But my house and my family. Mom at the kitchen counter, still in her bathrobe, dicing onions and celery for her “famous” stuffing. She never got up before eleve...n AM on Thanksgiving, and lollygagged around the house in her pajamas.
“Do you have Thanksgiving with your mom or dad?” Mia asked.
“Both. I eat with Mom and my cousins on Thursday and go to Dad’s on Friday.”
“Two Thanksgivings,” she said, as if it were a shekel she found on the ground.
“Yeah, Dad has a second Thanksgiving. His friends bring their leftovers, so he doesn’t have to cook. Do your parents have a big production?”
“It’s huge. My grandparents, aunts, and uncles come.MoreLess
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