When I was young, I loved Chanukah because of the presents and the candles and the latkes and the songs, but most of all because of the chocolate gelt.
Wrapped in foil to look like gold and silver coins, the little net bags of chocolate money was the cherry on the top of the Chanukah sundae (I should probably find a better metaphor since I don’t like maraschino cherries and it’s a bit overused.)
While I was grocery shopping today, I came across a shelf full of gelt in the requisite net bags and decided to buy some for my daughter, who couldn’t care less about gelt, as she is seventeen and is drawn to shinier things like iPhones and brand new cars. Still, I gave them to her when I got home.
She surprised me. “Now I can make my friends play dreidel with me.” She was half-joking, but still, I felt like on some level she misses the simple joys of being a child and getting excited over a heated game of dreidel, using gelt as the gambling medium.
I know I miss that sometimes too.
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