The Spaces Between Your Fingers

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Helen's wedding day stands out to her, and it isn't just because it was her wedding day. Her father actually conducted the wedding. He was the local rabbi, and everyone knew her as the rabbi's daughter. Her entire family was present, and the wedding is an outstanding piece of her memory.  -Written by Marcus K.

“Haray at mekudeshes,” my father said, his gaze fixed on my ring finger.

“Haray at mekudeshes,” Harvey repeated, the tips of his silver hair fluttering in the spring breeze. He twirled his mother’s wedding band in his hand, his gaze also fixed on my ring finger.

“le betabaas zu kedas,” my father went on. Harvey again repeated the words, but this time his brow narrowed, and he directed my father’s words toward me. The tone of his voice did not waver; it only intensified. My entire family stared up at us, and my palms grew sweaty.

“moshe veyisroel,” my father finished. Harvey’s chin rose, and suddenly his eyes met mine.

“moshe veyisroel,” he said. But his eyes spoke to me instead, vibrant emeralds floating in a sea of sincerity. He slid the wedding band on my finger, and the crowd of surrounding faces lit up.

And all I could think of, despite the surrounding crowd, were the words he spoke that night in my bedroom, when it was just he and I.

“I like you, and I love you, and I wanna marry you.”

Marrying the Rabbi’s Daughter

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Helen's wedding day stands out to her, and it isn't just because it was her wedding day. Her father actually conducted the wedding. He was the local rabbi, and everyone knew her as the rabbi's daughter. Her entire family was present, and the wedding is an outstanding piece of her memory. -Written by Marcus K.

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Recorded by Marcus Kunkle on August 1, 2014
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