I stop at Mr. Cohen’s bakery,
get a bagel and coffee for my grandfather.
I pause in the alley
to see all the names of the Calypso.
I take a napkin from the bag,
clean the dust out of the initials,
tiny patterns in the brick.
My grandfather is at his workbench
like always. Only this time,
instead of fixing something
he is sorting
through the treasure box.
Oy, good. You’re here.
Good morning, Grandpa.
You are cheery today. Good!
Lots to be happy about these days, right?
When something bad happens,
even an earthquake,
it’s a chance for a real miracle to happen.
I look at him.
We get to see what we are made of?
Exactly!
He sorts through the box,
a frame,
an old photo,
a silver chain
on one side,
the empty jar of clay from the Vltava River,
the knife,
more colored stones
on the other side.
Slowly he slides this pile
toward me.
Really? I ask.
Yes, he says. You are almost thirteen,
you should have some of these things,
but I have one condition.
Go back to synagogue.
Spend time with Rabbi Rosenthal.
I nod, take the knife from the sheath,
hold it against the light.
Then I hold the jar of clay;
it’s lighter than the jar
that held the clay
from the Dead Sea.
I weigh it in my hand.
It’s old, he begins, much older than anything else.
An artifact of our family,
something you should have now.
Do you think if I mix it with the clay
in the pool
I could make a golem?
There’s not enough clay in there to make a golem.
Besides, Etan, I’m not sure the golem
has a place in this world anymore.
Still, having this will always connect
you to the old world
like a bridge, to remind you
of where you came from
and who you are,
and that anything is possible.
I close my hand around it.
I’ve held on to it for too long, he says,
like the shape of a memory long gone by.
But now I know.
What, Grandpa?
He looks through the window,
down at his coffee,
back at the photograph of the Calypso.
He holds one of the photos from the box.
It’s the people.
They are what connect us.
The things we do
and remember together
that matter most. Not the clay.
And that’s when I have an idea,
and I know I have to tell Malia
right away.