The Monthly Theme Essays are a collection of essays written each month on a predetermined theme. These essays are always published during the last week of the month. To submit a Monthly Theme Essay check out our upcoming themes.
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On the first day of preschool, my son gripped my hand. He peered into the classroom, his eyes wide. “Go ahead,” I said, squeezing my fingers out of his and nudging him forward. The teacher approached and crouched to his level, saying his name with a smile.
Read More“Now I lay me down to sleep…” she said. I repeated her words, each consonant round in my four-year-old mouth, my high-pitched whisper barely audible as I mirrored my grandmother. I remember feeling that each utterance had weight, like what she was teaching me was important even if I was unsure of the words meaning. For me, it was nap time, and this ritual was part of the routine. After we finished our prayer lesson, my grandmother tucked me into the bed and as my eyes slowly closed, I gazed around at the small haven where I rested.
Read MoreThe Sister hunkered down in my little brother’s sled, gathering her habit around her, the rubber soles of her nurses’ shoes squeaking against the plastic. She and the older Sister beside her were not dressed for the January cold, unlike my two siblings and me, cocooned in snow pants, puffy coats, mittens, and stocking hats.
Read MoreI came home to wisps of white paper blowing through the screened-in porch like feathers in a chicken coop. Rosie, the rescue puppy, was sitting on haunches with head bowed and tail wagging sheepishly, white exclamation points in the black spots of her scruffy fur. The trail of paper led from the porch, through the dog door, to the living room floor, to the black leather cover of my grandmother’s Bible, her name in gold on the lower corner.
Read MoreI didn’t know better. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
I was seven and fascinated by my friend Kasey. She was a redhead, and she’d just gotten a perm. I thought she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. I told no one. I figured we were simply special friends. I didn’t know better.
Read MoreThe sidewalks in West Philadelphia are notoriously uneven. Cracks splinter across a cement landscape of protruding roots and gnarled knots, a battleground of nature’s rebellion against the cages built by mankind. Litter adorns small patches of grass like jewelry, reflecting the sun’s rays as it pierces through thin layers of clouds.
Read MoreReb Nachman of Bratislav, the 18th century sage, wrote:
כל העולם כולו גשר צר מאוד והעיקר לא לפחד כלל
Kol ha’olam kulo gesher tsar m’od v’ha-ikar lo l’pakhad k’lal
The whole entire world is a very narrow bridge and the important thing is to not be afraid.
Read MoreHasbun Allahi wa nimal wakeel. These words had become my mantra. “God alone is sufficient for us, and He alone can rectify our affairs.” These were the words that I would recite thousands of times a day that winter. I would repeat this phrase in the early morning hours when I couldn’t sleep. As I heard myself murmur the words, my own voice seemed to lull me into a trance-like state, as if I floated out of my body.
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