Chava leaned back against the hard but stylish dining room chair. Up until recently her condo had felt like a sanctuary with its textured white walls, large plate glass picture window with a view of the Rocky Mountains from the veranda. Winding paths in the garden areas were always filled with people, and even when she wasn’t amongst them, she enjoyed watching the interaction. She’d moved into the condo when it was new in 1974 with her husband, and in her eyes it still looked as beautiful as the day Mendel nailed the mezuzah to the door jamb and they’d entered laughing.
She stroked her hand over the stylish glass and brass dining room table and chairs, the result of long nights searching through catalogs with Mendel. Forty-five years imbued it with the power of memories. Here she’d spread a feast for her youngest daughter’s bat mitzvah. Joanie’s strange wedding had been held in the party room downstairs. Afterwards this table hosted Joanie’s vegan party for the bridal attendants. Chava had sat shiva for Mendel almost five years ago here, receiving groups of visitors, their gifts of fruit baskets, deli trays, candies, nuts, and pastries crowding every inch of the table until nothing could be seen of the surface. The air smelled like food for weeks, he’d had so many friends.
Chava smiled at the memory of so many people crowded into the four rooms of their apartment. She dragged her finger across the table’s surface feeling the chill of the glass and imagining Sadie’s...
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