My father’s friend Janek
has a farm.
When I was younger,
Father would take me with him to visit.
While the men talked business over hot tea,
I played with Janek’s dog.
Today when he prepares to go to Janek’s house
I am not invited to come along.
I already know that this visit is
between friends.
My father stands in the dirt outside of our house.
He looks as if he has brought his troubles to ask his wiser self
what we should do.
Mother comes out with a bag of food.
It is filled with latkes for Janek.
She places it in my father’s hands
and their hands hold on to each other
before Father pulls away and starts down the road.
“What is the food for?” I ask my mother.
“It is a thank-you,” she says.
“Your father has a difficult favor to ask of Janek.”
“What if…,” I ask,
pausing to breathe in the last of the scent
of my mother’s delicious treat,
“What if he says no to the favor?
Will Father bring the latkes back to us for dinner?”
I am hopeful when I ask this.
My mother turns to me, laboring to push her mouth
up into a smile.
“No, Moishe. The food is for Janek, whether he says yes or no.
It is not a thank-you for the favor,
it is a thank-you for his friendship.”