“It’s hopeless!” Aviva cries from the backseat.
“What –- the tooth situation?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she answers.
We’re on our way home from the grocery store, and V is intently chomping an apple in hopes of getting her wiggly front tooth to come out.
“Don’t lose hope, V. Then you’ll have nothing!” I say this with obvious drama. Then she surprises me, but not really. Her response is classic Aviva.
“That’s not true, Mama. I’ll still have love.”
Of course, I take her invitation and jump right into the game. “Without love, then you’ll have nothing!” My response is more emphatic this time, with a slight Russian accent. Or is it Yiddish?
“Then I’ll have faith.”
“But without faith — nothing!” I say.
“Yeah –- I’ll have braveness.”
“Ah! But without courage –- nothing!”
“Uh-huh,” she says. “I’ll have strongness!”
“Without strength, you’ll have nothing!”
I look at her in the rearview mirror, flexing her muscles.
“That’s true. Then I’ll have nothing.”
When you’re discouraged, may you have hope.
When you’re lonely, may you have love.
When you’re doubtful, may you have faith.
When you’re fearful, may you have braveness.
When you’re waning, may you have strongness.
When you’re overwhelmed, when there are simply too many balls in the air, too many thoughts in your head, too much to figure out, to manage, to plan or prepare for, when you feel like falling apart and wish you could skate away, then may you have nothing.
Happy New Year, with big love and gratitude.