I Love Dov and Dov Loves Me

On my way to shul this morning, I said Shabbat shalom to someone in shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt who was having his morning cup of coffee while smoking a cigarette.

He said Shabbat shalom back to me.

When my friend Dov was leaving shul after kiddush following the morning prayer, he kissed me on the top of my head.  As a boy, Dov somehow survived the Holocaust in Hungary and then made his way to Eretz Yisrael, the Land of the Jews.  There is something about certain Jews who arrived here in the 1940's.  They love Israel and the love shines through them.

When we sit for kiddush, Dov is always putting herring or kugel in front of me.  He wants to please me and I don't even know why.

But I definitely know that I love Dov and Dov loves me.

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