Sunlight creeping

I sit reading under a wide-leafed tree on a late summer afternoon. The hours must have tiptoed past, because golden-yellow Shabbat has sneaked up behind me, crawling close on flaxen fingers.

The cicadas hum a restful melody, and the red-winged blackbirds know all the right songs to greet the rising dusk.


Grandpa's house

I can’t wait to go to Grandpa’s house! I’ve been looking forward to it forever. We’ll get out of the car, and he’ll be waiting on the porch for us. He’ll give me a giant hug, and he’ll say, “Look how big you are! You’ve been eating your vegetables!” And, and, I’ll go inside and sit in the sagging green chair, and eat cashews from the candy bowl and Grandpa will let me have some coffee in my milk, and we’ll hear the latest news about the neighborhood, look at pictures and tell stories about things that happened before I was born!

Dad smiles. “But that’s what happens every time we visit. Shouldn’t we try something new?”

No way! That’s how visiting Grandpa goes. If we changed something, it just wouldn’t be the same.


Weekday ruins

The sun sets on the city where people once toiled. Darkness falls over stone structures, walls crumble to ruins.

The piles of stone are given time to grow.

Rain falls, the sun shines, and green shoots peak through the cracks on a once flawless façade.

When human labor ceases, the earth returns to its original state. The garden creeps in from the edges, and with every day of rest the Tree of Life lowers its branches nearer to the ground.


Blind date

There are a thousand things I could be doing right now. Exciting things. Necessary things. But, no. A mutual friend foisted Shabbat on me. Because I owe this guy big I put on a strained smile and said, “Great. I love hanging out with Shabbat!”

I sit across the table from Shabbat, making polite conversation and watching the clock.

Just twenty-three more hours, and I’m free. Twenty-two more hours. Twenty-one....