Lunedì, 12 Aprile, 2004 | Posted by Silvia Rose at 17:23

My mother would often change character totally. One day she'd be Jackie Onasis. The next, she'd be Mrs Fruit Cake.

For a while, she wanted to go straight. She thought she should no longer be a dancer and she'd try to be a proper mother. You know what I mean. She'd do the whole "twin set and pearls" thing. It would drive me mad.

She even wanted to do the whole "Meet the Parents" caper. "Oh, isn't it wonderful how your son and my daughter are ... you know ..."

She would lean over and whisper in my ear, "What is it you're doing, dear? And what is his name."

"Seymour", she'd look at me stupidly. "I know what you're thinking, just don't say it. I promise, his name is Seymour."

Seymour's parents were a lovely pair, Rachel and Abe. They treated me as the daughter they never had. We were both 14 years of age and they thought we spent our evenings in Seymour's room doing homework.

How quaint.

Anyway, my mother and I were there for lunch. Rachel served up soup with Matzo Balls. Rachel was very proud of her Matzo balls. "Best balls in town" Abe would shout.

Silvia looked at her bowl. She picked up her spoon and pushed the balls around. She looked very hesitant.

Rachel stoppped and noticed.

Silvia hadn't touched a drop. "Are you okay, Silvia? Everything alright?"

"I was just wondering," said Silvia "are the balls the only part of the Matzo that you eat?"