A Life Worth Living Read Online Free PDF Page A

of a small stucco house with a concrete front yard, sitting unevenly on a mound of earth.
    Rafi bounded out of the car to check out their new home, and Gaby followed cautiously behind.
    Flower pots with a few hopeful purple anemones lined the steps leading to the house, and a small bush adorned with some kind of skinny, purple-pink lily stood near the front door. Other than that, the gray-ash stucco house’s exterior was devoid of color.
    Inside the house, it was equally colorless, with white walls and the floors tiled in speckled, stone tiles. There was a living area with a daybed that doubled as a couch, and a round table with a collection of mismatched chairs. Against a nearby wall were a few cheap pine cabinets, a refrigerator, a smallish stove, and a single sink; this was to serve as their kitchen.
    Mrs. Kupfer walked into the house and paused at the doorway. She turned slowly, taking it all in. “What a privilege,” she breathed.
    “Privilege?” Gaby asked.
    “Just think of all the thousands of Jews who yearned for years to return to Israel, and here we are! Aren’t we so lucky?”
    Gaby nodded, thinking about how unlucky all of those other Jews were. Her mother had taken the sentimental route and named her after a Holocaust victim, a small child who was killed in January of 1945, only a few short months before Hitler was defeated. This little soul came to haunt her at the most unexpected moments, such as when her mother expounded on their luck at being alive in the right decade.
    Mark came in and out a few times, dragging their luggage behind him. When all of the suitcases were in the house, he departed with warm wishes and blessings for success on their homecoming.
    “Come look, I have a special surprise for you.” Henny led Mrs. Kupfer to an arched doorway in the kitchen.
    “Oh my! Henny! I can’t believe this. Gaby, Rafi, come look! We have our own washing machine and dryer!”
    Gaby’s heart beat a little faster, and, unable to control herself, she ran to check it out, with Rafi right behind her. This was a huge deal. In New York, they had to use a laundromat to wash their clothes, an embarrassing and detested task that usually fell to Gaby.
    She ran her hands over the two machines. They were obviously used, but they seemed to be in good condition.
    “I don’t understand. Someone just gave this to us? There has to be a catch.” Gaby looked at Rafi to see his reaction, but he was too busy playing with the dials on the washing machine to hear her.
    “Well, not a catch per se,” Henny said slowly, looking a little embarrassed. “But there is a favor you can do for the Rosenblums. They are the ones who gave you their used machines.”
    “Sure, what can I do for them?” Mrs. Kupfer asked eagerly.
    “Well, you know how new immigrants can ship appliances without having to pay customs tax?”
    Mrs. Kupfer nodded.
    “They want to know if they can order a new washing machine, dryer and fridge from the U.S. under your name and have them shipped to Israel, so they can save money on the VAT. They’ll obviously pay for everything.”
    “Absolutely! It would be my pleasure,” Mrs. Kupfer promptly agreed.
    “I know we haven’t been in Israel long, but isn’t that illegal?” Gaby interrupted.
    “Wow, I like how you suddenly became so ethical, Gaby,” her mother said, a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
    “I could be ethical,” Gaby said, more to herself than to her mother.
    “That’s good to know. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Mrs. Kupfer turned back to Henny. “I’ll be glad to do that. I would love to thank them personally. Do you have a phone I can borrow?”
    “Guess what? As a welcome home present, the community of Shiloh set up all of your utilities, and paid the first month’s bills. Here is your new number.” Through her mother’s exclamations of joy and thanks, Henny directed them to a telephone hanging on the wall, on which a phone number was written in thick black marker on a