A TESTAMENT FOR ARIELA 1
Miriam Lipschutz Yevick
A few weeks ago we were inspecting the ground in front of your place in State College to see if the tulips had broken through yet. A small pile of snow had hardened into ice and the ground was frozen solid. We hacked into the ice with a stick while we waited for your daddy to come and take me to the train for my return home.
He appeared suddenly and in a great rush to be going. I grabbed my bags, gave you a quick kiss and hurried to the car.
"Where are you going?" You shrieked in panic.
"To the train!"
You disappeared. I had run without warning, without a proper adieu.
Just as we were about to pull out of the driveway, your face appeared behind the glass door. I waved frantically - seeing the hurt and mistrust in your expression. I had meant to leave quietly, Ariela. I decided to call you that evening to "explain myself." Then I thought the better of it. I respected your feelings; I would be wrong to draw you into mine to relieve my guilt.
(I have left you more often than I wished to, Ariela, feeling a pain no less than yours).
The flu has made the rounds since and laid me low. You heard me cough over the telephone and you started to sing. You sang on and on in a beautiful high soprano voice. You made up your song - about yourself and grandma - as you went along. "It is me!" you sang. "It is me! Me!" You were launching out for the first time to test your ownvoice.
"Do you feel better now, grandma?" you asked when you finished.
This is a serious book, Ariela. Read it when you feel ready for it; when you will know your own authentic voice. I shall go quietly, Ariela, when the time comes - in the hope that the best of grandma's voice may harmonize with that lovely one of yours which made me feel so much better.
 A Testament for Ariela is a collaboration between a grandmother and her eighteen year old grandchild.