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13 gifts by wendy mass6/1/2023 ![]() “Really?” he asks, tilting his head at me. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.” There’s an old teaching that says that, at thirteen, your soul gets stuck into your body. “Supposedly when you reach thirteen, you can see the different pieces better. It’s about recognizing the spark of life in everyone and everything, and gluing these shards back together.” It’s about how the world is broken up into pieces, and how it’s up to everyone to help put it all back together. “It’s what I’m going to talk about in my speech tomorrow, after all the Hebrew stuff. “Because of what you’re doing.” He reaches out and takes hold of my arms, just above my wrists. “I’ve learned a lot about my family today. “Are you sure you’re not Jewish?” he asks, cutting me off. And we were going to put up a webcam so your dad could see and, well, I just thought, you know, how you said singing outside makes you feel closer to him and -” I mean, if you even want the service here. The party would still be at the community center. Then he turns back to me and whispers, “Is this for my bar mitzvah?” ![]() The stack of chairs half hidden under a tarp, the podium, the girls frantically raking. ![]() What if he didn’t want to have his service at Apple Grove? Who am I to think I know what’s best for him? What if his mother gets mad? I swallow hard, unable to continue. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” I tell him, suddenly nervous. ![]() ![]() I hand Rory my rake and pull David aside. ![]()
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