Raisins & Almonds

“Unter yingeles vigele

Shteyt a klor vise tsigele”

He closed his eyes.  Not for the pain, or to hide from the fear.  He closed his eyes so he could better hear her voice.  Her gentleness was interwoven into the soft melody of the song, and she alternated between word and soothing hum.

“I am with you,” she said.

Without opening his eyes, he nodded.  She tenderly stroked his cheek and forehead.

“Dos tsigele iz geforn handlen

Dos vet zine dine baruf”

That she knew the tune meant much to him… although he couldn’t recall ever sharing with her that it was a song his mother had sung to him when he was a child.  He took a breath and repositioned his feet under the covers.  He thought, “Many children had that lullaby sung to them… she heard it, too.”

“Rozhinkes mit mandlen

Shlof-zhe, yingele, shlof”

No.  He was confused.  It wasn’t his mother. It was his grandmother.  She was the one to hold him… and rock him when he was afraid.  In their home, as a child, he had shared a room with his grandmother.  It would have been her to respond to his disturbed sleep.

“I am with you… rest, rest.”

He didn’t know what the words to the song meant.  He never knew… it was never important.  It was the comforting quality of her low voice, the rocking and the reassuring strength… don’t be afraid, mine yingele. 

How did she know to sing the song?  Maybe that is the core of love.  It’s not that you know.  It’s that you feel.

He turned to his left, trying to find a place… a place away from his fear.  “I am afraid… thank you for being there.”

 

Under little ones cradle in the night

Came a new little goat snowy white

The goat will go to the market

And mother her watch will keep

He will bring you back raisins and almonds

So sleep my little one, sleep

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