How strange, Fruma Esther thought later that evening as she lay down in her solitary bed in her empty room, that something that was never even in your head for a second can suddenly take over your whole mind. It was like a bad virus, she thought, the idea of a shidduch with Rav Alter, spreading and infecting her every waking moment.

As she tossed and turned, she tried to shift her thoughts to Shaindele. Now that was something to keep you up all night! Maybe if I had had a husband, a pious scholar at my side all those years, I could have done better, been wiser. Maybe Zissele would still be here, and Shaindele would still be that frum, dutiful little girl. For sure there would have been no redheaded baalas teshuva dancing around the apartment to the music of shkotzim, scandalizing the whole neighborhood. Why had it never once crossed her mind to find another man after her dear Yitzchak Chaim left this world for his reward? Despite all the exhortations in the holy books that we are meant to have partners, the thought had never even crossed her mind. It seemed ridiculous to even imagine another chance at love, at companionship.

But as it is written, when a person sees troubles brewing, let him examine his own acts. Could it be that all this was God’s way of showing her that her self-imposed loneliness was not His will? And if so, was this now His plan for her?

Alone in her bed in the little apartment that had grown increasingly solitary with every passing year as one by one the children and grandchildren grew up and moved away, she thought about it. But it was ridiculous. Seventy-five. How does a person that age even stand beneath a chuppah? Everyone will laugh on me, she thought. But it wouldn’t have to be like the wedding of a young person, she suddenly thought. It could just be a rabbi, a few friends, a few of the children from both sides. No catered hall and groaning, heavy-laden buffet tables; no prancing musicians, no hysterical dancing circles of sweating guests. Just a simple gold ring, the recitation of “You are hereby consecrated unto me by the laws of Moses and Israel.” Just a heel smashing a napkin-wrapped glass. Just a simple supper afterward, she yawned, already seeing the table set with challah and gefilte fish. Maybe even p’tcha.