Passover, last

Mar 09, 05 | 2:59 am

I watched them in the kitchen, my mother, my aunt, moving in unison, their hands fluttering in perfect economy of movement as they arranged gefilte fish in shallow bowls, dropping in a few slices of carrot as they went.

"When do I get to be the grownup?" I asked. Ella’s shoulders shook soundlessly and I knew she was laughing at me.

Nan looked up from the carrots. "You don’t."