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July 24, 2014 / 26 Tammuz, 5774
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Connections Built By Disconnections

Twenties-121313

It is quite remarkable how slow the hands on the clock move during a class that I am not particularly fond of, but when I am actually enjoying a certain class or if it is recess or lunch time the hands on the clock have a way of speeding up. After davening I head to class. I do like learning new things so I enjoy most of my classes. Surprisingly it goes by pretty fast and before I know it recess has kindly arrived. My friend Chava and I like to walk around the building during recess to get some fresh air and move after sitting for so long.

“Rachelli do you want to study together for the Chumash test on Thursday? I think it would be good if we start studying tomorrow so that we won’t feel pressured on Wednesday night when we have to study for the test and work on our history essay,” says Chava.

“Sure that sounds like a great idea especially since I remember what it was like when we had our last Chumash test and our science report was due on the same day. I definitely don’t want a repeat of that.  Yes, I think tomorrow should be fine,” I reply as I pop a potato chip into my mouth.

After a long day of learning, two quizzes, and announcements of a few new tests to add to the calendar, it is finally time to go home. My stop on the bus is not too much farther from the first stop so I arrive home relatively soon after school ends. As I step through the door, my stomach growls like a lion at feeding time; I quickly run to the kitchen to see what my mother made for dinner. I go to open the fridge and stuck onto the door is a note with my mother’s neat handwriting on it. It reads “Dear Rachelli and Leah, I meant to tell you that I had an appointment at 6:00 and I probably won’t get home until around 8:30. I left some chicken in the oven and rice on the stove. There’s also some salad in the refrigerator if you want. I’ll see you both later. I love you!”

I go to the oven to heat up the chicken and the rice. Since my mother is out, my father will not be back from work until later, and Leah will not be home for at least another fifteen minutes because she went to study at a friend’s house, I am home alone.  I take out my notebook and go to the couch to sit and study for my Navi quiz the next day. I finish reading one of the two pages that I have to study when suddenly the phone rings. I place my notebook on the coffee table and answer it.

“Hi, it’s Shifra Glick. I’m just calling to remind you to bring in the twenty dollars for the dance costume. Also, you mentioned that you might be able to make the flyers to hang up around town to tell people about our concert. With all of the other preparations for concert the flyer totally slipped my mind. Is there any way you can make it tonight? I’m sorry that it’s so last minute, but Mrs. Greenbaum needs to check it over and approve it,” says the caller.

“Yes I guess I could do the flyer tonight. Its ok, I understand. It would just be easier if we were closer to concert and I didn’t have to do the flyer and study for quizzes at the same time, but I’ll do the best I can,” I reply with as much sincerity as I can muster.

About the Author: Malka B. Kirsh is in 10th grade at Bais Yaakov of Ramapo


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One Response to “Connections Built By Disconnections”

  1. Keep doing what you're doing and you'll find yourself accepting the Nobel prize without that annoying buzz disturbing the moment. At first, I thought the author was a lot older before I realized how many of us started the struggle against the alarm clock around the same time. My alarm never stopped me from achieving a great things though…I guess even in my dreams, I'm an under-achiever.

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Twenties-121313

I look into the flickering flames of the Shabbos candles and I am thankful for the warmth and light that emanates from them and illuminates our home.

The tear is rolling down my cheek. It lands atop my lips. I lick my lips to remove the dryness and the saltiness soaks into my tongue. I take a long deep breath and begin to think. Why? How could she do that to me? We’re best friends. We’ve known each other practically since we were born. How could she go and do such a horrible thing?

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Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/magazine/teens-twenties/connections-built-by-disconnections/2013/12/13/

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