21 hours ago
Friday, August 19, 2011
I am the chuppah and the broken glass...
Mr Nielson better known as Sid, bought our son Steele a new car.
The car of Steele's dreams.
Steele found it himself on 'gumtree' ( my favourite hunting ground for vintage finds), and went to view it and meet it's owner.
'It's my dream car,' he told Steele, ' I want to do an MBA, and have to sell it to afford the tuition fees.'
I feel so proud of that young man.
He came to our home to finalise the sale. 'What work does Steele do?' I heard him ask Mr Nielson. I wondered how it must feel to hear that Steele was still at school; that the car was a gift for his 18th birthday.
Later, as my son and I sat in the car's plush interior and admired its illuminated dashboard and pristine condition, I couldn't help voicing my sadness.
Just the imbalance of it. 'Be happy for me, mum', my boy asked wistfully. And of course, I am.
But I can't help thinking of the boy who gave up one dream, so that he might forge another.
In Jewish tradition the groom breaks a glass under the wedding canopy, to symbolize the destruction of the temple, our exile and the pain of others even as we celebrate.
I am the chuppah, and the broken glass.