“YOSSI!” Mrs. Kleinman yelled. She was in the living room reading the fifth issue of Toronto Family Magazine. Yossi heard his name being called and zoomed down the stairs. “Yeah?”
With a bright smile, his mother winked and signaled Yossi to head for Bubby’s house now. It was winter and the usual snow stubbornly held to its ground, waiting for the summer to melt the ice. He grabbed his bulgy coat and put muffins on.
“Good luck Yos!”
Yossi bravely fought with the biting wind as he made his way over to his great-grandmother’s apartment, all the while, smiling. He was so overwhelmed, so overjoyed, by the fact that he would have the iPad. He dreamed of showing and telling his classmates the story of how he received the iPad. Whoa Yossi, stop dreaming! Who said Bubby is gonna give you anything just because you will tell her it’s your birthday?
He suddenly realized he was standing before the grand apartment building – 3000 Bathurst St. He entered the lobby and smiled at the doorman as he headed directly for the elevator. He pressed the appropriate floor button and waited patiently inside. He was going up, his soul was going up. Every floor meant bigger excitement. By the time he reached her floor, he was smiling from ear to ear. He stepped out and marched down the narrow yet cozy hallway. Finally, he arrived at the right place and rang the bell two times.
The door opened and Bubby stared menacingly at the young teen, double her size standing at the door. “Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Yossi, your great-grandson! Your granddaughter is my mother! And your daughter is my grandmother!”
At once, the elderly Mrs. Hartman became a smiling, compassionate and loving looking lady. She burst into nachas sobs as she hugged and kissed her scarlet-faced great-grandson. “My bubbala. My bubbala. How are you sweetie?! Kim, I have some fruits for you to eat! I have leek soup too for supper. Kim du! Vhy you standing there?” she asked as she hobbled to her seat. “Take a seat and sit. Oy, take off your hat and coat and put it over there little mentchale. I love you little bubbala. Oy bubbala, vos can I do vor you? Vos is nais? Tell me about school and snow. Nu, nu. Speak!”
Yossi was at losts His dreams, shattered – at least that’s what he thought – really would she understand about an iPad?
“Hi Bubby, how are you?”
“Vondevall. Very happy. I gave vone school a few thousand dollars today. A big mitzvah!”
“Wow! How come?”
Back and forth, their slow tight communication broke down its barrier and both discussed everything that was on in their mind. Nearly two hours later, Yossi brought up his reason for being there.
“You know Bubby, my birthday is next week! I will be 15 soon!”
“No! You’re kidding! Nu? Tell me, vot vould you like vor your birthday?”
Just like that. A magic question and Yossi wanted to fly around like a bird, over the moon. He wasn’t expecting that question so quickly! He had to answer and answer fast!
“Bubby! Thanks so much for asking! I’ve been thinking about an iPad.”
“An iPad?!” Bubby raised her eyebrows. She soon burst into laughter, “Such a humble grandson asking vor a shmatte thing! Ah for Purim right?”
It was now Yossi’s turn to raise his eyebrows. Yossi hastily nodded. “Bubby, it’s really for all the time. I really dream of having it. It’s cool and it’s fun.” Yossi went on to explain in simple terms what an iPad can do.
“Yossi, to me, this thing you vont is very cheap.”
Yossi understood very well that everything was cheap since she was a millionaire. The time came for Yossi to go back home. After final hugging and kissing, Bubby let go of her great-grandson. “Bye, bye sweetie!”
Yossi blew out the candles and began cutting his birthday cake. He was very tense. Where was his iPad? What was taking so long?
“Stop looking so grouchy and give me a slice please!” Mrs. Kleinman snapped. Mr. Kleinman handed Yossi a sefer and wished him a happy birthday. “Thanks Ta.”
About the Author: Moishe Mordechai Tzvi Coleman has written two books and numerous articles that have appeared in magazines and newspapers. He can be reached via e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org
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