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'Father, this is a treasure!' he called out. 'Well.' 'Why didn’t you spend it?' 'On what? Thank God, we have everything.' 'Why didn’t you travel somewhere?' 'Where to? This is our home.' The son asked one question after the other good luck (44), but Berl’s answer was always the same. They had everything. The garden, the cow, the goat, the chickens provided them with all they needed. The son said, 'If thieves knew about this, your lives wouldn’t be safe.' 'There are no thieves here.' 'What will happen to the money?' 'You take it.' Slowly, Berl and Berlcha grew accustomed to their son and his American Yiddish. Berlcha could hear him better now. She even recognized his voice. He was saying, 'Perhaps we should build a larger synagogue.' 'The synagogue is big enough,' Berl replied. 'Perhaps a home for old people.' 'No one sleeps in the street.' The next day after the Sabbath meal was eaten; Berl and Berlcha lay down for a nap. They soon began to snore. The goat, too, dozed off. The son put on his cloak and his hat and went for a walk. He strode with his long legs across the marketplace. He stretched out a hand and touched a roof. He had a desire to talk to someone, but it seemed that the whole of Lentshin was asleep. |
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