Basya Tsybukmakher
A children's story based on material from the publication “Mishmeret HaShalom”
Tzipi and Sari ran out into the courtyard, skipping over the steps and jumping rope at the same time.
“Oh, look, Shifra's here! Let's invite her to play with us,” Sari suggested.
Tzipi shrugged her shoulders:
“No, let's not invite her…”
Sari was surprised:
“But why not?”
“Well… How can I put it… if I start telling you everything now, it might be lashon hara!”
“Lashon hara?” Sari repeated almost automatically, immediately thinking that she had no intention of listening to lashon hara. But still, what had Tzipi meant?
The girls went to the far end of the courtyard and invited anyone who wanted to jump rope to join them there. Tzipi hoped that Shifra, who was feeding her little brother at the time, would not hear the invitation. But she immediately turned her attention to the girls who had come running from all over the courtyard to jump rope and were already deciding the order: first, second, third! The rope flew into the air and was soon turning nonstop to the lively words of a counting rhyme…
Shifra seemed completely uninterested in the group game. She sat on a bench, patiently feeding her little brother, spoonful after spoonful. When the jar of baby food was empty, she played with her brother for another couple of minutes, then got up to go to another playground. “My friends will soon notice me on the bench,” she thought, “so I'd better leave before that happens.” Shifra stood up decisively and, pushing the stroller ahead of her, soon disappeared from view.
Shifra Levin was not avoiding her friends because she was in a bad mood. Many years earlier, when Mrs. Levin brought one-year-old Shifra to the pediatrician for a routine checkup, the doctor was surprised: why wasn't she crawling yet? Her embarrassed mother replied that the little girl found it difficult to stay on her hands and knees. The pediatrician thought for a moment, then quickly began typing something on the computer. Mrs. Levin felt very uneasy—the doctor clearly was not joking. He gave her daughter a referral to an early childhood development center: “If I were you, I would hurry to make an appointment!”
Without putting it off, Shifra's mother made an appointment for the next day, and physical therapy sessions began, week after week. Thank G-d, Shifra proved to be a bright and determined child, but the same could not be said of her muscles: Shifra's muscles had been too weak from birth and were almost unresponsive to exercise. Only thanks to her mother's strong will and persistence did Shifra eventually learn to crawl, sit, and stand, and soon she was moving around the apartment on her own, holding on to the furniture. After a long year of exhausting exercises, Shifra was finally able to walk on her own at the age of two.
Unfortunately, despite her ongoing exercises, Shifra was never able to be like most of her friends. “What stupid muscles I have!” Shifra lamented. How could a fourth-grader be unable to jump rope? She practiced and practiced, but she just could not master jumping rope. Despite her outward calm, it was very hard for her to be the only girl who did not take part in the game.
Sari could not take her eyes off Shifra, and because of this she missed her turn to jump several times. Rachel tried to bring her friend back to the game: “Sari, you're not paying attention to how you're turning the rope!” Sari made an honest effort to pay more attention, but all she could see was Shifra. She watched Shifra patiently feeding her little brother, getting up from the bench, and leaving the playground. She noticed the disappointment on Shifra's face, even though she was so far away.
“I'm tired of jumping rope! Let's play something else!” Sari said this so unexpectedly that she surprised even herself and did not recognize her own voice. “We haven't played hide-and-seek in a hundred years!”
Yes! Great! Let's do it! Everyone liked the idea, and the girls immediately dropped their jump ropes. Just then, Shifra was walking past “as if by chance.” You could see the joy—and relief—on her face at being able to join the new game easily.
Shevi began counting to ten, and in less than a minute all the girls seemed to have vanished from the courtyard. One hid behind the trash cans, another crouched behind a bench, and another pressed herself against a tree.
“Sari,” Shifra whispered from their secret hiding place between the electrical panel and the entrance door to the building, “I know you're… the one… who decided we should play a new game… anyway… thank you!”
Translated by A. Schwalb.