Lost and Found

"Mama?"

"Yes, Alon?"

"Can I go out and play?"

Mrs. Markowitz smiled. It was a fairly unusual request for her nine-year-old son to ask to go out and play.
"Well, have you done all your chores?" she asked him, leaning down from loading the dishwasher.
"Yes, Mama!" said the little boy.
"Are you going to play with Miguel?" she asked.

"No, I need to collect some plants for my experiments."
Della Markowitz sighed. She had been trying all summer long to get Alon to play with the other kids in their quiet cul-de-sac, but he remained insular, preferring to read, study, or do experiments. He was very polite, and well spoken, but would not go out of his way to be sociable.
"Okay, Alon, you may go out. But be back by seven; your father's coming home tonight."
"Yes, Mama." Alon ran out into the front garden and the door slammed behind him. Della carried on with loading the dishwasher, switched it on, and started dinner.

Michael Markowitz came home a little late that evening. He dropped his suitcase in the hall, and came into the kitchen to hug his wife.

"Good to see you, honey!" he said as he embraced her.

"Your late!" she said, lovingly. "Better get washed up, there are only 20 minutes until sundown!"

"Okay, dear. Where's Alon?" he asked as he walked towards the bathroom.

"Basement!" said Della. "With his experiments."
"Oh, great!" said Michael. He was very impressed by his young son's scientific ability. He himself was an engineer working out of Detroit. He lived in a small city apartment during the week, returning to his rural home in time for sundown on a Friday night. This was easy in the summer, but in the winter the sun sets much earlier, so for the rest of the week he worked long hours to make up the time. When Alon was born they had all lived in the city, but the atmospheric pollution, while having no effect on an average person, aggravated little Alon's asthma. So they had made the decision to move, and be separate some of the time. It suited them well.

Michael washed and changed quickly, and yelled down to Alon in the basement.

"Alon?"

"Yes?"

"Shabbos!"

"Coming, Father!"

There was a clattering sound as Alon ran up the stairs, and hugged Michael.

"Go and wash, Son. And turn the lights on!"
"Okay, Aba," said the little boy, and kissed his father's cheek before running off doing his duties.

Alon returned and stood in silence next to his father at the table while his mother lit two long, white candles. She waved her hands over the flames, and quietly recited a blessing.

"Baruch ata……"

She took her hands away, and stood for a few seconds reflecting.
"Okay, my boys! Who's hungry?"
"I am!" said Alon, and sat down at the end of the table. Michael pushed his chair in. Della brought in a large tureen, some bowls of vegetables, and three large, shiny, plaited loaves of bread. She placed some onto Alon's plate.

"Would you like some grape juice?" asked Della.

"Yes, please!" said Alon, and when it had been poured slurped at the juice while his spectacles made a chinking sound when they hit the glass.

They are heartily, and it was getting dark by the time they had finished.
"See! I turned all of the lights on, Aba!" sang Alon.

"Well done, Son! Be sure not to turn any of them off!" replied Michael.

"I won't!" said Alon happily.

"Okay, Alon, time to get your pyjamas on!"

"Okay, Father!" he said, chirpily and did as he was asked.

"That was delicious, darling," said Michael to his wife.
"I make it every Friday," said Della.

"Yes, but every week it gets better!" said Michael.

"Mike?"

"I'm still a little worried about Alon."
"How so?"
"Just that he doesn't get enough interaction with other kids."
"He goes to school!"
"Yes, but there are only five of them in that special class, and they are much like him. I've sat in the classroom for half a day. They all just get on with their work, and don't talk to each other."

"But he's a great kid!"

"I know, Mike. He's every mother's dream, I just think that he might improve socially if he had more opportunities to interact with people."
"He has us."
"We don't count."
"I guess you're right, honey. But what do we do about it?"

Della took a brown envelope from the kitchen cabinet and slid out the contents. She handed a stack of leaflets to Michael. He read quietly for a few minutes.

"Summer camp? Alon? I don't think he go for that!" said Michael, sceptically.

"It's a science-focussed one. Look, they do data collection, fieldwork, experiments, reports, scientific reading, he'd love it!"

"The age limit is 12."

"I already asked them. They said since he is already two years ahead in school, they would take him."

"I still don't know if this is such a good idea."
"He'll love it."
Michael turned the leaflet over. "It's in California!" he said. "You want to send him to California?"

"Well, it's in association with Berkeley, and the dry air would be good for his allergies. It might even tan him a little. He's very pale."
"You're not going to budge on this, are you?"

"No. Plus, it's only for 6 weeks."
"Well, I guess you've talked me round."
"Thanks, Mike." Della kissed him.

"Bedtime, Alon!" called Della up the stairs.
"Okay, Mama!" called Alon. Della smiled. She knew that if she went to check on him in an hour he would be reading under the covers with a torch.

"I'm coming up there!" she said, and trotted up.

There was a gasp from Alon's bedroom as he hastily shoved the evidence of his study plans into his top bedside drawer.

"What is it this time?" asked Della.

Alon looked sheepish. "Principles of Entomology."

"Come on, into bed now, Alon."
Alon obliged, and Della went to his bedside table. The lamp was housed in a metal tube, and she twisted it to cover the light completely, without physically turning it off.

"Goodnight, Alon."
"Goodnight. Mama."

Della kissed him on the head, and then Alon removed his glasses. Della took them and placed them on the bedside cabinet next to the lamp. He would have to able to find them again; he was so extremely short-sighted that unless he knew where they were, he would be unlikely to find them.

Della went down to the lounge and sat down on the sofa next to Michael.
"Did you tell him?" he asked.

"No. I'll do it tomorrow. We'll have a whole lot of time to discuss it then, and I can work out how to sell it to him!"

Michael smiled. "Just emphasise the science part. He'll go for it."