OK, I really do understand why I am so elated about my daughter’s engagement. After all, I carried her for nine months and 12 days (but who’s counting), I lived through her colic, and heard her first words, and I took her to nursery school the first day. I remember her innocence and her trust in others and her vulnerability. I remember her sweet little smile and her bouncy walk as she went to kindergarten. I saw her grow up overnight, able to understand the concepts of family therapy as she listened in on conversations with my colleagues. This is the little girl who at 7 remarked to one of my colleagues, “Good metaphor, Dell!” I watched her grow through high school, graduate, and pack herself up to make aliya. I was with her as the plane touched down and tears filled her eyes and she looked at me and said, “I’m home.” I watched her dance with joy at her siblings’ weddings and now, she is looking forward to her own.

All this I understand. It is logical. It is sensible. Every mother wants happiness for her children.

But why do I feel such a sense of happiness for her fiancé, someone I hardly know? Of course I think that he will be a very happy man, married to someone who is full of love, who is giving and caring. But it is more than that. When I see him, I smile. His face is kind. His voice is gentle. Maybe my happiness comes from seeing the reflection of her in his eyes.

May they always reflect each other– the sparkle in their eyes, the kindness of their souls, the sweetness of their love.

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