Saturday, June 13, 2015
My Mom and the only other Jewish mother came in to my Grade Two class on the first day of Chanukah and made latkes. I wonder what the other mother’s thought when they smelled the indescribable smell of oily potatoes in their children’s hair and on their wooly sweaters, a bit threadbare at the elbows and stained with paint and almond butter? “What did you do at school today?” They might’ve asked, pulling an undershirt over their child’s ringleted head, the music of the running bath in the background. We spun dreidels until we were dizzy with sore tummy’s from laughing, and sang “Baruch Ata Adonai” before decorating our latkes with applesauce and goat yogurt. I was proud of my mother’s heritage – Katie and I were special, the only Jews in the class! There was nothing complicated about it. The complications would sneak in like Winter, grabbing Autumn’s hand one night and refusing to let go.