to see today?” Abba asks me.
“Ima found me these shells in Israel in the desert, in Mitzpe Ramon.” I pry open the lid on the canister of sand and show him the white swirls. “I want to learn more about them.”
“Shells in the desert?”
“Yeah, water used to cover everywhere, even Israel.”
“Interesting,” Abba says. “Do you need a ride home?”
“No, that’s okay. I’m meeting Becca later.” Becca has convinced me to sneak into Dirty Dancing . Neshama started rumors at school, hushed whispers about the bulge in Patrick Swayze’s pants. Becca has been talking about it all week.
Abba drops me off, and I head up to the natural science exhibit. The shells Ima found are actually a fossil called ammonite, part of a squid-like marine animal that existed from the Paleozoic era to the end of the Cretaceous era. The Egyptians considered the fossils to be divine and called them ammonite after the God Ammon.
On the bus to the movie theater, I think about the patterns the sea would have left on the sand as it receded. The sea was there before Abraham and Sarah, before therewas even the Torah. No wonder the Egyptians thought ammonite was divine. If we still prayed to the sea, loved it the way Jews loved Hashem, we wouldn’t dump toxins in our lakes, or overfish our waters. We would pray for the sea’s health and abundance. I shiver at the thought of a Divine Sea. Out the bus window, all I can see are endless concrete buildings and asphalt roads. I could take the subway all the way down to Lake Ontario, but, there too, it’s just a concrete shore. All I have is where water used to be.
Up at the cottage there were hummingbirds whirring around the feeder and bluebirds cawing for peanuts. And in the lake Lindsay swam, her bare arms and legs glimmering wet, her hair alive, like rippled grass down her back. Lindsay. I bite my cheek and glance at the elements I copied onto my wrist: Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium .
I meet Becca at the theater at Yonge and Eglinton. She giggles with delight. I keep glancing around us nervously. We don’t see anyone we know. The theater lights go down and the music comes on. Becca fixes her eyes on Patrick Swayze’s swiveling hips. I keep mine on Baby’s.
That night at home I lie in bed and flip through my geology book. Inside are the words I’ve been looking for: molten , estuary , erosion . Pages and pages on volcanoes spewing, landmasses slipping, tide lines ebbing. I can smell the salt of the sea, hear the bubble of lava, feel plates shifting. I imagine Lindsay expertly maneuvering her canoe. I bite my cheek: Hydrogen , Helium , Lithium , Beryllium .
I read until my eyelids start to close, my mind saturated with sand dunes shifting, glaciers carving paths and leavinglakes behind. Like when I swam with Lindsay, the way she teased me, the delicious scent below her ear. I bite my lip. I must want to change, become the person I was before the summer, the Ellisheva Gold whose name means “God’s promise,” the Ellisheva who wanted to marry the ocean, but would settle for living by it.
A car passes, the headlights flashing shadows across the wall. Yes, change. I clamp my cheek in my teeth. Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen , Oxygen , Lindsay. Like breathing oxygen.
BY YOM KIPPUR , The Day of Atonement, I know big chunks of the periodic table backward and forward. I know which elements form ionic bonds and which are least reactive. Since I can rattle helium to lithium and think about Lindsay’s hips at the same time, I’ve decided to memorize the Latin for echinoderms instead, starting with sea stars: Sunflower Star, Pycnopodia helianthoides .
At shul , I sit between Ima and Neshama at the back of the balcony. The fans swirl warm air above us, the men’s chanting rising from below. Neshama slumps in her chair, her head tipped back, silently counting the lights in the ceiling. She absently pats her growling stomach, licks her lips. Ima stands to my right, swaying, quietly mumbling
“Ima found me these shells in Israel in the desert, in Mitzpe Ramon.” I pry open the lid on the canister of sand and show him the white swirls. “I want to learn more about them.”
“Shells in the desert?”
“Yeah, water used to cover everywhere, even Israel.”
“Interesting,” Abba says. “Do you need a ride home?”
“No, that’s okay. I’m meeting Becca later.” Becca has convinced me to sneak into Dirty Dancing . Neshama started rumors at school, hushed whispers about the bulge in Patrick Swayze’s pants. Becca has been talking about it all week.
Abba drops me off, and I head up to the natural science exhibit. The shells Ima found are actually a fossil called ammonite, part of a squid-like marine animal that existed from the Paleozoic era to the end of the Cretaceous era. The Egyptians considered the fossils to be divine and called them ammonite after the God Ammon.
On the bus to the movie theater, I think about the patterns the sea would have left on the sand as it receded. The sea was there before Abraham and Sarah, before therewas even the Torah. No wonder the Egyptians thought ammonite was divine. If we still prayed to the sea, loved it the way Jews loved Hashem, we wouldn’t dump toxins in our lakes, or overfish our waters. We would pray for the sea’s health and abundance. I shiver at the thought of a Divine Sea. Out the bus window, all I can see are endless concrete buildings and asphalt roads. I could take the subway all the way down to Lake Ontario, but, there too, it’s just a concrete shore. All I have is where water used to be.
Up at the cottage there were hummingbirds whirring around the feeder and bluebirds cawing for peanuts. And in the lake Lindsay swam, her bare arms and legs glimmering wet, her hair alive, like rippled grass down her back. Lindsay. I bite my cheek and glance at the elements I copied onto my wrist: Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium .
I meet Becca at the theater at Yonge and Eglinton. She giggles with delight. I keep glancing around us nervously. We don’t see anyone we know. The theater lights go down and the music comes on. Becca fixes her eyes on Patrick Swayze’s swiveling hips. I keep mine on Baby’s.
That night at home I lie in bed and flip through my geology book. Inside are the words I’ve been looking for: molten , estuary , erosion . Pages and pages on volcanoes spewing, landmasses slipping, tide lines ebbing. I can smell the salt of the sea, hear the bubble of lava, feel plates shifting. I imagine Lindsay expertly maneuvering her canoe. I bite my cheek: Hydrogen , Helium , Lithium , Beryllium .
I read until my eyelids start to close, my mind saturated with sand dunes shifting, glaciers carving paths and leavinglakes behind. Like when I swam with Lindsay, the way she teased me, the delicious scent below her ear. I bite my lip. I must want to change, become the person I was before the summer, the Ellisheva Gold whose name means “God’s promise,” the Ellisheva who wanted to marry the ocean, but would settle for living by it.
A car passes, the headlights flashing shadows across the wall. Yes, change. I clamp my cheek in my teeth. Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen , Oxygen , Lindsay. Like breathing oxygen.
BY YOM KIPPUR , The Day of Atonement, I know big chunks of the periodic table backward and forward. I know which elements form ionic bonds and which are least reactive. Since I can rattle helium to lithium and think about Lindsay’s hips at the same time, I’ve decided to memorize the Latin for echinoderms instead, starting with sea stars: Sunflower Star, Pycnopodia helianthoides .
At shul , I sit between Ima and Neshama at the back of the balcony. The fans swirl warm air above us, the men’s chanting rising from below. Neshama slumps in her chair, her head tipped back, silently counting the lights in the ceiling. She absently pats her growling stomach, licks her lips. Ima stands to my right, swaying, quietly mumbling
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