Entering the flesh again,
lightly, lightly, lightly, slip-sliding down paradisiacal
threads of the brightest stars, transmigrating in a rosy
mist into a boy named Shael Heshel.

Her spirit penetrates every miniscule of his tender body,
seeping under his dove-soft skin. Embedded within his bones
and sinew are shadows of her former self, a shimmering glint
of a heart of gold shines through his radiant eyes, his prescient
smile reveals a shared tranquility.

The cascade of accolades of all who ever knew her
never went to her head. Self-abnegatory to a fault,
she lived to do for others. Her immortal spirit and supple
goodness will now be imprinted in his heart and soul.

No one can say for sure why she chose this boy. All that is known
is they both share a love of music and eating. At a very early age
he wakes up smiling, scat singing all the tunes that mama sang
listening to the Lawrence Welk Show every Saturday night.

I remember the day in the depths of the Depression when mama
and I were out shopping under the Jamaica El, sunlight strobing
through steel lattice work of the subway overhead. It was the first time
she discovered Philadelphia Cream Cheese, “A little taste of heaven.”
She practically ran back home to bake the best cheesecake known to man.

Mama was as cheerful as Dad was worried, singing and dancing in every
Sisterhood show. She was forever encouraging him to have more fun,
reminding him to: “Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think…”
From morning till night Shael Heshel’s laughter rings through the house.
All he does is have fun.

Mama and great-grandson, bloodlines mysteriously entwined.

Milton P. Ehrlich