We were sitting around the table at
Friday night dinner, eating up a storm. My step-grandmother Sandra made a
scrumptious feast of home-baked challah, sweet and sour meatballs,
delicious chicken and more. My sister Mira finished her meal quickly
(since meatballs are her favorite). Sandra remarked, "I spent days
preparing this meal, and it's gone in minutes."
What a depressing
thought! In the weeks that followed, Sandra's statement haunted me. Why
am I spending time making a nice meal that will quickly disappear?