BURNING LIGHTS by BELLA CHAGALL. Contents include: HERITAGE 9 THE
COURTYARD 13 THE BATH * 5 SABBATH 4 THE MELAMMED 63 ROSH-HA-SHANAH
73 DAY OF ATONEMENT 82 SUKKOT Q SIMCHAT TORAH * o6 THE FIRST SNOW
** 5 THE HANUKKAH LAMP 12* THE FIFTH LIGHT ** 6 HANUKKAH MONEY THE
SHOP J 54 PURIM GIFTS l &* THE BOOK OF ESTHER * 75 THE PURIM
PLAYERS 185 DINNERTIME * 93 HUNTING FOR CHOMETZ 2O2 PASSOVER EVE
205 THE SEDER 22O ELIJAH THE PROPHET 235 THE AFIKOIMEN 24 TISHAH
B'AV 244 A WEDDING 248 GLOSSARY 265. HERITAGE. IT is an odd thing:
a desire comes to me to write, and to write in my faltering mother
tongue, which, as it happens, I have not spoken since I left the
home of my parents. Far as my childhood years have receded from me,
I now suddenly find them coming back to me, closer and closer to
me, so near, they could be breathing into my mouth. I see myself so
clearly a plump little thing, a tiny girl running all over the
place, pushing my way from one door through another, hiding like a
curled-up little worm with my feet up on our broad window sills. My
father, my mother, the two grandmothers, my handsome grandfather,
my own and outside families, the comfortable and the needy,
weddings and funer als, our streets and gardens all this streams
before my eyes like the deep waters of our Dvina. My old home is
not there any more. Everything is gone, even dead. My father, may
his prayers help us, has died. My mother is living and God alone
knows whether she still lives in an un-Jewish city that Is quite
alien to her. The children are scattered In this world and the
other, some here, some there. But each of them, in place of his
vanished inheritance, has taken with him, like a piece of his
father's shroud, the breath of the parental home. I am unfolding my
piece of heritage, and at once there rise to my nose the odors of
my old home. My ears begin to sound with the clamor of the shop and
the melodies that the rabbi sang on holidays. From every corner a
shadow thrusts out, and no sooner do I touch it than it pulls me
Into a dancing circle with other shadows. They jostle one another,
prod me in the back, grasp me by the hands, the feet, until all of
them together fall upon me like a host of humming flies on a hot
day. I do not know where to take refuge from them. And so, just
once, I want very much to wrest from the darkness a day, an hour, a
moment belonging to my vanished home. But how does one bring back
to life such a moment? Dear God, it is so hard to draw out a
fragment of bygone life from fleshless memories And what if they
should flicker out, my lean memories, and die away together with
me? I want to rescue them. I recall that you, my faithful friend,
have often in affection begged me to tell you about my life in the
time before you knew me. So I am writing for you. Our town is even
dearer to you than to me. And you, with your full heart, will
understand even what I shall not succeed in telling. Only one thing
torments me. My sweet little daugh ter, who spent o
General
Is the information for this product incomplete, wrong or inappropriate?
Let us know about it.
Does this product have an incorrect or missing image?
Send us a new image.
Is this product missing categories?
Add more categories.
Review This Product
No reviews yet - be the first to create one!