My Guardian Angel Read Online Free Page A

hoped for a boy.”
    Miriam laughs and kisses Elvina. “Husbands always want boys, but for mothers, it’s much better to have girls! A girl is good company; a girl is a friend. You were my first child. When you were born, the neighbors all came around looking sympathetic, saying, ‘Poor Miriam, how disappointed you must be.’”
    â€œAnd what did you say?” asked Elvina.
    â€œI laughed and made fun of them. . . .”
    Elvina can’t believe her ears. “You made fun of them? But you are always so kind and polite.”
    â€œI was younger then. I wasn’t so kind in those days! But your grandfather said to me, ‘Let them talk. Let them think you are disappointed. That will keep them from being jealous, and they’ll wish you nothing but good.’”

V
    My dear Mazal,I can’t write you, because I have no parchment, but I can still talk to you, espe- cially because I’m all by myself, which I hate. If I had a sister instead of a brother, it would be much less lonely.
    Of all the work we women have to do, what I enjoy most is spinning wool. I like the rough, slightly greasy feel of the wool between my fingers, and its warm sheep smell. I take after my grandfather in that way. When I was small, he shared with me his pleasure in the scent of the damp earth after the rain, the delicate smell of apple blossoms in the spring, and even the odor of hides being tanned. He taught me to love the pitter-patter of rain on the roof, the pale light of winter, and the silvery glimmer of the full moon. My grandfather showed me thousands of ways to find happiness in everyday things. My father is completely the opposite: He is quite indifferent to the sky, the seasons, the reflection of trees in the river, and the beauty of the world that God has created. My father is only interested in studying the sacred texts.
    Meanwhile, as I ply the wool between my fingers, turning it into thread, my mind is not on my spinning. My thoughts are free to wander where they will, over to my friend Muriel’s, for instance. Muriel is so lucky. She lives in a house that overlooks the street . . . and what a street it is! Her father is a furrier, and their house, which is also their shop, is right on the street where most of the Jewish shops are. She can watch the world go by, unlike me.
    Today I can’t even go to the younger boys’ school, as I often do, to listen to them read and translate the week’s lesson. The text this week is especially difficult. It’s about how to make the holy robes for the high priest and how to decorate the tabernacle. It has many words that I don’t know.
    Dear Mazal, I know you are always watching over me, and I’m sure you are laughing to yourself now. You think I’m trying to hide something from you that you already know. Learning the vocabulary of the tabernacle is not the only reason I like going to school, but I don’t want to talk about it, not even to you. Anyway, it was probably you, Mazal, who worked things out so that I couldn’t go to school this morning. No, that can’t be true. After all, you were not the one who built the school right next to the synagogue and the Beth Midrash where my father teaches the older boys.
    One thing is certain. If I did go to school today, I might run into my father. And after this morning’s scene, I don’t even want to think of such a thing. The fact is, I’m scared of Judah ben Nathan, my own father, even though he has never laid a hand on me. For whenever I make him angry, he looks at me so disdainfully, I wish I could disappear through a hole in the floor.
    This morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Aunt Rachel and my mother went to see Tova and her baby, for Tova has neither mother nor sister to take care of her. Before leaving the house, they gave me the same instructions I have heard over and over for the last few days: “Lock the