Thursday, September 14, 2006
Therapy.

So I'm in the heimishe store and I've got Zalman in my arms. "Can the guy who works here help me to my car?" I asked. "You mean the one who's a little..." his voice trailed off as he wound his index finger towards his temple. "Here he is. Moshe! Can you help the lady with the baby to her car?" He took my groceries and out we went. "Thank you so much for the chessed (kindness)," I told him. "What's your job?" he answered. "I'm a mommy," I said. "Oh. I thought you were a therapist." I laughed. "Nope, I'm a mommy." "I thought you were a psychiatrist." If only you knew! "When two Jews get together and help each other," I said, pointing to him and then me, "When we show ahavas yisroel, that's the best therapy." "Yeah, but I need someone to talk to - one on one - for my stress." "Yeah, I have stress too - we all do." I wanted to relate to him, show him his sameness. He smiled as I buckled Zalman into his car seat. "Shabbat Shalom," I said as he started back to the store. "Shabbat Shalom," he waved.


4 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home


My Photo Name: Fancy Schmancy Anxiety Maven
Location: Chutz l'aretz - Outside of Brooklyn

fancymaven at gmail dot com