My doctor called it postpartum depression and assured me it was normal, but I knew better. I resented my son Daniel for what he was not. I wanted sugar and spice. Instead I got snips and snails.
One night, after putting the baby to bed, I turned on the television and came across a promotion for flame retardant pajamas. Graphic images of once handsome children, burned and scarred beyond recognition, seared through me.
“What’s wrong with me?” I bolted from the sofa to the nursery, gathered Daniel into my arms, inhaled his sweetness and whispered, “I love puppy dog tails.”
“Although he could well afford to have his suits tailored by the Czar’s clothier, Ulrich Dietrich would have none of the aristocracy. The wealthy heir of a German banker and a successful musician in his own right, he baffled his colleagues by choosing to enlist the services of a poor Jewish tailor. When criticized, he would merely shrug and thank the critic to mind his or her own business.”
~~From Please Say Kaddish for Me by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
When circumstances force Havah to leave Svechka for Kishinev, Ulrich who is a lonely widower, hires her to be his housemaid. She quickly becomes more than that to him. Impressed by her aptitude and talent, he takes her under his wing as a student in both English and music.
Havah, in turn, finds herself attracted to this Christian man’s sense of humor and admiration of her people. Little by little she allows herself to forget Arel and fall in love with Ulrich.
The following PHOTO is the PROMPT. Where does your mind travel? Take us there in a hundred words or less.
My story follows the prompt and the link frog. I welcome honest comments and crit.
***
Dear Friday Fictioneers,
Some of you may have noticed a lack of my comments and replies last week. My editor and I have been up to our eyeballs in novel edits. I hope to catch up soon. Thank you for your patience and understanding.
A heartfelt thanks to my editor and friend for sacrificing his time to help me untwist, un-hyphenate and smooth out the rough edges of the soon-to-be published PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME.
This night my thoughts turn toward home and you. I cherish the times we invited the moon to join us as we shared rice wine. Remember how we dreamed I would find Gold Mountain?
Now my journey is hard and my days are filled with the pickaxe and train tracks. Never will I see you again, my fragrant orchid, nor our precious son…
***
“Fever musta took him.” Levi knelt beside the body and pried a piece of crumpled paper from its stiff hand. “Whatcha make a this?”
Orville squinted and shrugged. “Jest some ignorant Chinee scribbles.”
The following photo is the PHOTO PROMPT and comes from Lauren Moscato by way of Amy Reese. What does it say to you? Watch your step and tell us a story in one hundred words or less.
The most dramatic operation she [Fruma Ya’el] had done in twenty years was to extract a well-deserved bullet from Pinkas Rabinovich’s backside after a tavern brawl. Never did she imagine she would be called upon to perform such grisly surgery as she had on a poor orphan. She wiped the amputation blade with her rag and laid it in the mahogany case between a pair of scissors and a scalpel. What else could she have done? Sometimes life left one no choices.
Taken from PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Although Havah’s introduction to Fruma Ya’el is a painful one, she will become one of the most important people in the girl’s life.
Fruma Ya’el Levine, the cantor’s wife, is a one of Svechka’s most beloved citizens for she is the village midwife. She is proud of the fact that she’s seen most of the babies’ faces before their own mothers. Her great love of children has earned her the title of Auntie Fruma.
In her youth she had the opportunity to immigrate to America to study medicine, but tragic circumstances barred the way. Trapped in an arranged and empty marriage, she pours her love into her only living child, Gittel.
Fruma Ya’el sees in Havah the passionately intelligent girl she used to be. Little by little an ironclad bond forms between them.
As a child growing up in a Jewish family, it never occurred to me that not everyone had a Hebrew name. My friend Lori Ginson was proud of her Yiddish/Hebrew name “Fruma Ya’el,” meaning Pious Strength of God. However Lori was a troubled soul and died much too young. I think she would be pleased that I gave her name to one of the strongest characters in my novels.
“Havah saw him as if in a dream remembered long ago. His hair and beard, inky shadows, framed a face as pale as dawn. Like silver-gray clouds, his prolific eyes spoke with silent words.
Arel Gitterman is the youngest of Yussel’s five children and his only son. Arel was five-years-old when brain fever killed his mother and took his father’s sight. A gifted child, he became Yussel’s eyes for reading.
He’s always been an obedient son, groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps as the next rabbi. At the age of thirteen he was betrothed to Gittel Levine, the cantor’s* daughter.
Arel’s never questioned his role in life—until the day of Havah’s dramatic arrival in Svechka. For both he and Havah it was love at first sight.
Much to her chagrin, he’s a man of his word and he refuses to break his covenant with Gittel, Havah’s adopted sister.
*The cantor sings or chants prayers in synagogue service.
The following video is the Kaddish prayer that Havah chanted the night of her escape from Natalya. It is the prayer that’s traditionally recited or sung in honor of the dead. Rather than a prayer for the dead as some believe it’s a prayer honoring the Almighty. Here it’s sung by a Hasidic cantor.
Translation:
May the great Name of God be exalted and sanctified, throughout the world, which he has created according to his will. May his Kingship be established in your lifetime and in your days, and in the lifetime of the entire household of Israel, swiftly and in the near future;
and all say, Amen.
May his great name be blessed, forever and ever.
Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled, honored elevated and lauded be the Name of the holy one, Blessed is he- above and beyond any blessings and hymns, Praises and consolations which are uttered in the world;
and all say Amen.
May there be abundant peace from Heaven, and life, upon us and upon all Israel;
and all say, Amen.
He who makes peace in his high holy places, may he bring peace upon us, and upon all Israel;
On fragrant spring afternoons, on the mossy stone patio in Arlene’s backyard, we shared sandwiches, secrets and giggles as only little girls can. In summer we waded in the creek that ran behind her house and tried to catch tadpoles that tickled our bare toes.
When we entered junior high, Arlene withdrew and when I tried to talk to her about it, she turned away as if I no longer existed. I never knew why or whether I had done something dreadful to offend her.
The questions, answered by silence, scarred my heart. Fifty years later, the ache remains.
***
“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” –E. E. Cummings
There’s no time like the present to get over the past and get on with the future.
If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he
has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.
–Henry David Thoreau
Friday morning as I decorated cakes at work, I received a text message and an email from my agent, Jeanie, that began with, “I hope you’re sitting down” turned my world upside down. With several hours left to my work day, I tried to keep focused on tasks at hand while vacillating between smiles and tears. A nine-year-old dream that began with a story and nascent writing skill was about to come true.
Barefoot, wearing only a nightgown, Havah Cohen escapes the brutal massacre that takes her parents and two brothers on a frigid November night in 1899. To keep her mind off her razed village as she runs through the woods in search of safety, she recites the Kaddish, the prayer said in memory of the dead. Who else will perform this mitzvah, blessing, for them? Just before sunrise she collapses on the synagogue steps in a nearby village called Svechka, Moldavia.
Havah is the daughter of a free-thinking rabbi who saw nothing wrong with women having the same education as men. To avoid the inevitable disapproval in her new surroundings, Havah tries to keep her knowledge a secret. However, Arel, Rabbi Gitterman’s son, finds her irresistible because of it. If only Arel wasn’t betrothed to Gittel, Havah’s adopted sister.
Both PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME and FROM SILT AND ASHES revolve aroundHavah, her life, her loves and her challenges which she faces with stubborn passion. Althoughshe has a strong faith in God, she pushes the boundaries of religion and traditions.
Note: When linking your story, backspace over the info in the middle box and leave your name. It makes it easier on everyone. Thank you. Let me know if you have any questions.
My story follows the PHOTO PROMPT below and the inlinkz frog. I appreciate honest comments.
“Au revoir, mon ami.” Marie kissed Pierre’s ice-cold cheek.
“Where Papa?” asked fourteen-month-old Eve.
“He’s going to sleep his last sleep beneath the earth,” said eight-year-old Irène.
Marie placed a bunch of periwinkles and Pierre’s favorite photograph beside him. The picture was of her on the balcony of their first apartment on rue d’Allemagne. Refusing a black drape, she and her daughters adorned his coffin with flowers.
“I’ve no future without you, Pierre.”
“Remember our dream for humanity,” she heard him say, “for science.”
Days later Madame Marie Curie returned to the laboratory, her haven of discovery, joy and solace.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 