8th
This Is A Long Story
At the start of the summer between first grade and second, I got into my parents’ car parked in front of our semi-attached house in Brooklyn and took a ride to our bungalow upstate. At the end of the summer, we were piled into the car and taken to our new home in the suburbs. My cousins who lived in the same town for years came over and we all rolled down the hill in the backyard over and over while our parents sat on lawn chairs waiting for the BBQ to be ready. We kept rolling down, screaming and shouting, and running back up to the top of the hill to try again. The boys were only three and four so it was just the five of us girls taking turns. The game ended when one of us stood up and noticed a Daddy Long Legs on her skirt and screamed “THERE’S A DADDY LONG LEGS ON MY SKIRT.” I crouched in the grass and saw hundreds of Daddy Long Legs creep to life, running around the not yet mowed blades. How had we missed that? We started yelling and running around the backyard, shouting about Daddy Long Legs.
Other than my cousins, I knew no one. So when our neighbor from around the corner (also my father’s second cousin) came over with her daughter Esther to welcome us and invited me to come over and play with Esther, I said “okay.” Esther gave her mother a dirty look. A look that said, “how could you do this to me? How could you make me play with a girl who is A YEAR YOUNGER THAN ME?” I pretended I didn’t see and went around the corner for the most awkward afternoon of my life. I felt unwanted, ignored, intimidated, and stupid. By the time I went home I knew one thing better than I ever knew anything—Esther was my enemy. My enemy for life.
For five years, I ignored Esther. On the bus to school, I’d shoot her dirty looks when she wasn’t looking and mumble mean things behind her back. My whole family knew Esther was my enemy. They never dared say anything about her when I was around or I’d accuse them of being on her side.
In late spring the year I was in 7th grade, Esther was one of the 8th grade bus monitors. She walked down the aisle to tell a girl she needed to sit down and as she passed me, I glared at her. She saw me. She looked confused. I got really embarrassed and widened my eyes as if to say, “don’t play dumb, you know EXACTLY why I’m looking at you like that” and turned to look out the window.
An hour later I was talking to my mother in the kitchen when there was a knock at the door. I went to open it and there was Esther. Behind her, the sun was starting to set behind Kakiat Mountain and its strength blinded me. I leaned against the open door not inviting her in and then realized how rude that was. I opened the door fully and stepped aside. She stood in the dark foyer and looked down at the floor as our eyes adjusted.
“I don’t know if this is in my head, or if what I saw was real, but I sometimes get the feeling that maybe you don’t like me. I’m really sorry if I did something to you that would cause any animosity. I tried to think of what it might be, but I don’t know. Is there something I did to upset you or something mean that I said to you without realizing? I’d like to apologize for it.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, you were mean to me when you were seven because your mother put you in a position you didn’t know how to say no to and you took it out on me and that’s why I hate your guts.”
What I actually said was something closer to, “no, no, of course not. I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“Are you sure?” Esther asked.
“Yes, absolutely. I’m sorry.”
“Okay, I hope we can be friends,” she said and I opened the door for her to leave.
The foyer had been too dark for her to see, but my face was burning red. How dare she, I thought, how dare she be so nice! Enemies aren’t supposed to be nice and they aren’t supposed to make you feel confused about why you hate them!
We ended up at the same high school and took the same van to school for the next four years. We never became friends, but I always felt a little touch of respect for the her. Esther is the girl who helped start my change from childhood immaturity to adulthood maturity. She unknowingly taught me the importance of picking up silent social cues, ignoring pettiness, and asking for forgiveness even when you don’t know what you did wrong.
After high school Esther married a medical school student and they had two adorable little girls (the youngest is the same age as my niece—8 months). I married a guy at the start of his second year of residency. Our lives ended up on pretty similar tracks.
About a month ago Esther was diagnosed with cancer. It came out of the blue and shocked everyone in her family. She’s getting treatment and I’m praying for it to work. She doesn’t know how much I have to thank her for, but I do. Every time someone wrongs me or upsets me, I take the time to think about it and look for ways to forgive them, for ways to understand where they were coming from when they did or said what they did. A lot of my relationships are the way they are because of Esther. Because she’s such a good person and because she has so much still to share and teach me and others, I hope she has a full and complete recovery.
If you find yourself doing something kind for someone else today, maybe tell God it was for Esther’s merit that she get better. You don’t have to, but I say the Hebrew: Yehi Ratzon Melfanecha Hashem Eloknu vElokay Ovosanu, shetishlach mhaira refua shelaima min hashamayim, refuas ha nefesh vrefuas haguf, lcholah
Esther bas Michal besoch she’ar cholay yisroel.
