First a link to this week's Haviel Havalim
7:30 my first morning in Crown Heights after the wedding, my alarm clock came to life. Having gone to bed a paltry three hours before - after finally catching up on the back log of Rambam that had been growing increasingly longer since my wedding day - I did not come as quickly to life.
With no coffee in our place (the trusty old mud machine in 712 still stands as stalwart sentential guarding the Milchige kitchen . . . ) I slowly rolled out of bed and began to assemble my clothes for the coming day.
Pants: check (still on from the night before), Shirt: check (one clean shirt left from the trip to the cleaners before the wedding), Glasses . . . Glasses? No where to be found.
Look as I may, in the clutter of a newly settled and unfamiliar home, I could not find my specs. At last, ceding defeat in the face of my ever growing tardiness, I grabbed my mikvah bag and emerged into the world, sans glasses, blinking like a mole.
Rushing to the mikvah, I opened my bag . . . only to see that I hadn't brought my shampoo, soap, sandals et al - but instead my wife's makeup bag.
After running home, finding the correct bag, and dashing back to the mikvah, I was finally able to head off to chassidus in the Kollel.
My first day learning as a married man.
And with my dear friend the Amazing Yankel to boot!
Arriving at the Kollel half past eight, I entered the large room - packed full yungeliet learning chassidus.
I realized, much to my horror, that with out my glasses I would never be able to discern the Amazing Yankel among the white-shirted, bearded masses with out walking up to each table to get a better look at the guys sitting there.
After a few minutes I gave up the wandering and sat down . . . only to be tapped on the shoulder by someone a year or so older then me,
"This is my place," he said. "I've been learning here for two years already!"
He then proceeded to produce a brown lunch bag with a smiley face and a little message written on it.
Producing a handful of cookies and an apple, he began to happily munch on his breakfast.
I was overwhelmed suddenly with flashbacks from kindergarten.
And so things go . . . what ends, only cycles back to the beginning again.
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