And I miss infant voices .. wonder if Abraham and Sarah ever wished they were childless again after Isaac and Ishmael and grandson Jacob and Esau started quarreling?
“Oh, Sarah, it used to be so quiet out here in the desert. Only stars and moon at night. Perfect juts to sit together and hold hands and gaze.”
Sarah sighs. “Yes, I remember. It seems so long ago.”
“Do you ever …”
“What, dear? “Ever wish that …. ”
“Wish what …”
Long silence, seems like decades.
“That … don’t take this wrong, but … did you ever regret that we had children when we were old enough to be grandparents?”
“GREAT grand parents, Abe” she replies caustically. “Or have you forgotten how you fussed … well, I don’t want to use the explicit term you used, Lord have mercy how my momma would have looked at you if she’d heard you … over the arthritis in your knee?
“Fussed, woman. Fussed! Why I never heard such cussing in my life as when you couldn’t find your hearing aid shell. And the time you lost your glasses at the last oasis! You … a Jewish grandmother! Shame on you!”
Long silence. Very long silence. Very cold spell sets in in the desert.
Finally a sound of snoring.
Then a subdued voice.
Querulous voice answers, “Now what.”
“Abe, I remember when I laughed when the Lord said we’d have children. And the Lord got ticked off at me. Now I wished I hadn’t laughed.” “Why, Sarah?”
“Because maybe the Lord would have had mercy on me at my age, and realized I was too old to bring up two hardheaded boys. Maybe … well, I honestly do love them but sometimes ….”
“What, Sarah, tell me what’s on your mind and let me get some sleep.”
“It’s just that I wonder whether I got picked on because we’re the chosen people. Why couldn’t we have had a nice little quiet Egyptian girl?”
“Good night, Sarah” more gently now. “You’ve been a good mother and grandmother.” “Thank you, Abe. And …”
“Whaat, Sarah? Can’t we finish this in the morning?
“The boys do look like your side of the family, don’t they? Have you looked at their noses recently?”