Adelaide sighed in satisfaction as she finished sorting through the most recent box of books she had been reviewing. There were only a few of them she was planning on keeping, but she had enjoyed reading the vast majority of them. And that meant that she could donate the ones she wasn’t planning on keeping to organizations who would make better use of them. The hardest part was in finding places on her shelf for all of the new books.
As she gathered them into her arms, she walked slowly around the room, sliding each book into its proper place and rearranging the few she needed to keep the classification consistent. As she slid the last book on the shelf, she paused, eyes drifting to her copy of the Torah that rested there.
She had received it on the day of her 13th birthday. Not everyone was lucky enough to have their 13th birthday fall on a Saturday, but as soon as her parents had realized the opportunity, they had scheduled her bat mitzvah service for the morning of that day. She still remembered how proud they had been of that fact, as if they had worked together with the universe to ensure she would have the most auspicious start to her adulthood as possible. At 12, she had been mildly embarrassed of that fact. Now it just made her smile fondly.
Preparing for the ceremony itself had been relatively easy. It had been work, of course, with plenty of study and deep conversations. But she had always been an excellent student and the conversations had been incredibly stimulating. It had encouraged and deepened her faith while igniting her curiosity to be a life long learner of the subject. Before that process, she’d had an inkling of the kind of person she wanted to be. This had solidified it. And it was on this foundation that she built the strength she’d needed to craft the life she wanted instead of the one that had been expected of her.
The rituals themselves had been beautiful and comforting. She had practiced enough to ensure she would not stutter during the Haftarah prayers and the weekly Torah portion. Forcing her way past her own social anxiety, she had presented a short speech about the weekly reading, providing her own interpretation. Now, she could barely remember what she had said. All she knew was that she had learned the words well enough to keep the majority of her brain focused on breathing and keeping her eyes lightly glazed so she didn’t see the people watching her. And she had finished by inviting her parents up to give a short speech.
After the morning services, Adelaide’s favorite part of the day began. In the weeks leading up to it, she had raised money to contribute to a women’s shelter to pay for supplies, food, books, and staff. As one of the old aristocratic families of Verona, the fundraising had been an overwhelming success raising thousands for the cause. On that day, she was able to deliver the final check to the organizers.
The look on their faces...she would never forget it. One of the women had started to weep softly while the other stuttered through her thanks, talking about everything they would be able to do with a windfall like this. Adelaide had researched carefully, so she had known exactly how much the center was struggling despite all the critical work they did.
Touring the center with her mother, Adelaide had seen many worn and haunted faces in thin bodies. But she had also seen reluctant smiles, dedicated students, and budding confidence. Then while her mother went to speak to the heads of the establishment again, Adelaide made her way to the children’s play room. There, she read stories to the children who would listen to give the employees a break and exclaimed with delight over each of the stories that had been told to her. One sweet girl came up and laid her head on Adelaide’s shoulder as she read, and it took everything in her not to start crying at the simple act of trust. The hours had passed almost without Adelaide noticing until she was time to leave.
The party that night was a wonderful celebration, although Adelaide knew that this part was more for her parents than for her. She would have been happiest with a small party with a few friends and family. Instead, it was an elaborate multi course dinner involving friends, family, and anyone else her parents knew and considered worth inviting.
The food was amazing, she was sure, because it had been successfully catered. The music was lively and had brought plenty of joy to those who had decided to dance, and Adelaide herself had struggled not to blush as people danced around the chair she had been standing on for part of it.
Finally, she had ritually lit the candles for the first time, thanking her friends and her family and everyone else who mattered to her. There had been so many faces staring at her. But for once, she hadn’t minded. There had been too much love in the room for that. Too much joy. Too much purpose. It had been strangely easy for her glide through the ceremonies, as that love, joy, and purpose had filled her up.
The copy of the Torah had been passed down to her at that point from her father. It had been his mother’s before that and her mother’s and her father’s. Adelaide had treasured it for the gift that it was, and it had traveled with her ever since. She only read from it rarely to protect it. But it was enough to know it was there.
Even now, just seeing it connected her to her family and her heritage in a way that she found soothing. Reaching out, she brushed her hands against the book binding. And she smiled. Yes, that had been a wonderful day.
