ABSTRACT
On a morning in early summer, Esther and I spread a blanket on my lawn in Nayot, and she tried to interest her latest baby in Pat the Bunny so we could talk and say our good-byes. What was this baby called? Yosef Yohanan, Yohanan Yehiel? I wasn’t sure. Esther called him motek, sweetie, which is what she called all her children. This baby motek was especially beautiful. His red curls appeared golden in the sun. And Esther continued to nurse him though he was no longer an infant.
