Yael Medini
Suddenly, All At Once
translated from the Hebrew by Zeva Shapiro
Suddenly, all at once, as she stood in line for the bus, her head turned—
And, in the glass of the shop window behind her, an array of images flashed by: a constant flow of pedestrians and traffic, telephone and electric cables stretched between treetops—
A jumble of disjointed pieces, mixed together as in a picture puzzle, its hidden image a challenge to identify—
And, from this array of images, one image did, in fact, emerge: a woman with drooping cheeks, angular jaws, limp grey hair, eyes focused directly on her—
And, in an instant, in less than a single heartbeat, suddenly, all at once, she identified this image as her own—
And yet her face in the shop window did not match the one in the mirror at home, its smiling aspect masking the changes that were taking over at an imperceptible, yet persistent, pace—
And she acknowledged the truth that confronted her now—
And then, extricating herself from the line, she stepped closer to the shop window—
And in the glass her face sprouted a body, limbs, a dress, shoes; a purse was slung over its left shoulder, a basket in its right hand—
And her eyes rested on the profusion of trifles, strewn along the bottom of the display window—
Armenian saucers, colorful ceramic thimbles, ornamented hair clips, strips of exquisite cloth, assorted copper objects, black velvet ribbons adorned with miniature pearls, a pile of castanets, plump matrushkas, airy parasols—
And she remembered the powerful impulse that had always impelled her to touch, acquire, adorn herself with such trifles—in her childhood, in her youth, in early womanhood and in the prime of life, when she held the reins of her household with a steady hand, as wife, mother, daughter of aging parents, sister, a branch on a family tree, close friend, acquaintance, neighbor, customer, party member, subscriber to a newspaper, magazines, a concert series—
And now all these objects had lost their charm, every last one—
And the display window that separated her, concretely, from all those objects became a transparent existential barrier between two distinct entities—
For suddenly, all at once, all the links and connections that had been a bridge between her own self and the external world, were dissolved—
And suddenly, all at once her entire being was reduced to its essence—
And as her ears shut out the street noise, she seemed to feel her purse and basket slipping away, falling to the ground—
And she followed—
And though she knew this was possible only if one of her vital organs were to suddenly, in an absolute and final way, stop functioning—
She also knew that, at this moment, suddenly, and all at once, the difference between her physical extinction and its metaphorical expression was erased, as if it had never existed—
Because what she was experiencing now—
On a random day of the year—
On an ordinary day in the middle of the week—
On a day with partly cloudy blue-grey skies that could occur in any season—
This experience, in its intensity, could be compared only to an experience from her earliest consciousness—
A consciousness rooted in first memories—
A consciousness embodied in self-generation, in having been her own birthing stool—
And she knew that, at this moment, true to custom, she was being called upon to retrace the course of her life—
Before it faded from the map of the universe—
That she must go back and relive it—
Distinguish between the path she was instructed to follow—
And the crossroads at which she resolved to determine her own direction—
And contemplate the good,the bad, and their blend—
And the anguished swing between certainty and doubt—
And the struggle between fate and free choice—
But her being, now simplified, renounced all this—
And became an abstraction—
And, suddenly, all at once, she was joined to it, bound to it for the rest of her life—
Yael Medini is an Israeli author who has published for children, young adults and adults. One of her novels was awarded the prizes of Yad Va'shem and the Ministry of Education and Culture. She also wrote several radio dramas which were produced on Israeli radio.
Zeva Shapiro, who is based in New York City, has translated several Israeli novels, among them Shira by S.Y. Agnon, the Nobel Prize winner.
