either.
Yet we shared a kind of happiness that was new to me. I had helped Hannah all my life, so the details of household work were known to me. But I had never valued them highly. Now I learned to lose myself in grinding corn. I discovered the spirituality in being diligent, in creating a home in which faith could find firm footing. I saw the devotion in Hannahâs eyes as she washed her hands or cleaned the dishes, following rituals that our people had kept for so many generations. I saw the glow of purity on Judithâs cheeks when she came home from the mikvah, like a new bride. I thought of all the women of Israel everywhere renewing themselves monthly, offering themselves as pure gifts to their husbands,ever optimistic, ever generous. Women formed the filament of continuity, and my soul spun itself out on that holy thread.
For the first time since my fits had begun, I could pay attention to the world around me as a member, not just an observer. I saw Hannah move with respect in Judithâs presence. I listened to their careful words, one to another, and rejoiced when they finally talked freely without guarding themselves. Gradually, gradually I saw Hannah relax in the realization that she was still secure, that Judith accepted her and Abraham without question.
I saw Father step more quickly, his eyes shine more brightly. I noticed for the first time how large his hands were as they reached for Judith inside our home. I saw the color come to her cheeks and her lips part as she looked at him. I was careful to go to bed early on those nights. And if sleep did not come swiftly, I plugged my ears with my fingers and allowed Father and Judith their private world.
These were the people I belonged to, and we were growing together as a family.
The only one who did not seem to change withJudithâs coming was Abraham. He began by being silent in her presence and he persisted in that. She began by watching him. Then by doing her weaving near him. Then, finally, by addressing him. More than once I came into the house with dirt under my nails from working the garden to find Judith sitting beside Abraham playing her flute or recounting some event of the day before. Abrahamâs eyes wandered, never lighting on her, never acknowledging that her attention was directed at him. More than once Judith blew in from the outdoors like a wild wind and found Abraham propped against the wall, a scroll on the floor before him. She walked over and unrolled the scroll just a bit more, murmuring a word or two about the strength one gained from the holy scriptures.
Abraham didnât look at her. He stopped reading. He glanced vaguely at the flowing script, then away, as though the words on the page were meaningless â as though Judithâs murmurs were undifferentiated from the sigh of the wind.
Judith didnât talk to me of Abraham so I never knew for sure, but I believed she realized he wasinside that body, I believed Abraham fooled no one. Judith spoke of him and to him with respect. And if she did it only for my benefit, she never let me know that.
But Abraham didnât relent. Sometimes I wondered if he was punishing me, if he refused to let Judith into his life because she had so cleanly come into mine. I tried to ask him once, but I couldnât say what I needed to say in order to get him to answer honestly. How could I ask Abraham if he missed me, if he was jealous for my care, without opening up the issue we had both tacitly agreed to ignore?
Still, despite my newfound friendship with Judith, I didnât give up my visits to the valley with Abraham. I couldnât. Being with Abraham, even in our now limited way, was my lifeline. We read or talked in the valley. I didnât climb the sycamores and sing anymore. The flute sang for me without the pain of words. But still I had to be outdoors, in the open. And I had to be alone with Abraham. Even if being alone with Abraham gave me the loneliest moments
Yet we shared a kind of happiness that was new to me. I had helped Hannah all my life, so the details of household work were known to me. But I had never valued them highly. Now I learned to lose myself in grinding corn. I discovered the spirituality in being diligent, in creating a home in which faith could find firm footing. I saw the devotion in Hannahâs eyes as she washed her hands or cleaned the dishes, following rituals that our people had kept for so many generations. I saw the glow of purity on Judithâs cheeks when she came home from the mikvah, like a new bride. I thought of all the women of Israel everywhere renewing themselves monthly, offering themselves as pure gifts to their husbands,ever optimistic, ever generous. Women formed the filament of continuity, and my soul spun itself out on that holy thread.
For the first time since my fits had begun, I could pay attention to the world around me as a member, not just an observer. I saw Hannah move with respect in Judithâs presence. I listened to their careful words, one to another, and rejoiced when they finally talked freely without guarding themselves. Gradually, gradually I saw Hannah relax in the realization that she was still secure, that Judith accepted her and Abraham without question.
I saw Father step more quickly, his eyes shine more brightly. I noticed for the first time how large his hands were as they reached for Judith inside our home. I saw the color come to her cheeks and her lips part as she looked at him. I was careful to go to bed early on those nights. And if sleep did not come swiftly, I plugged my ears with my fingers and allowed Father and Judith their private world.
These were the people I belonged to, and we were growing together as a family.
The only one who did not seem to change withJudithâs coming was Abraham. He began by being silent in her presence and he persisted in that. She began by watching him. Then by doing her weaving near him. Then, finally, by addressing him. More than once I came into the house with dirt under my nails from working the garden to find Judith sitting beside Abraham playing her flute or recounting some event of the day before. Abrahamâs eyes wandered, never lighting on her, never acknowledging that her attention was directed at him. More than once Judith blew in from the outdoors like a wild wind and found Abraham propped against the wall, a scroll on the floor before him. She walked over and unrolled the scroll just a bit more, murmuring a word or two about the strength one gained from the holy scriptures.
Abraham didnât look at her. He stopped reading. He glanced vaguely at the flowing script, then away, as though the words on the page were meaningless â as though Judithâs murmurs were undifferentiated from the sigh of the wind.
Judith didnât talk to me of Abraham so I never knew for sure, but I believed she realized he wasinside that body, I believed Abraham fooled no one. Judith spoke of him and to him with respect. And if she did it only for my benefit, she never let me know that.
But Abraham didnât relent. Sometimes I wondered if he was punishing me, if he refused to let Judith into his life because she had so cleanly come into mine. I tried to ask him once, but I couldnât say what I needed to say in order to get him to answer honestly. How could I ask Abraham if he missed me, if he was jealous for my care, without opening up the issue we had both tacitly agreed to ignore?
Still, despite my newfound friendship with Judith, I didnât give up my visits to the valley with Abraham. I couldnât. Being with Abraham, even in our now limited way, was my lifeline. We read or talked in the valley. I didnât climb the sycamores and sing anymore. The flute sang for me without the pain of words. But still I had to be outdoors, in the open. And I had to be alone with Abraham. Even if being alone with Abraham gave me the loneliest moments
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