"Wake up, Ari! Get ready; you don't want to be late!" mymom shrieked. Oh, no! I thought. It was 6:00 a.m. on my Bat Mitzvah day. I was sonervous. I climbed out of bed and got ready to have my hair done by the lady whowas already waiting downstairs.
My hair was put into a neat pile ofcurl, and after everyone had their hair done and got dressed, we went to thesynagogue. We were right on time, and sat in the front seats reserved for the BatMitzvahpis family. My aunt from California and my grandmother from Florida wereexcited to see me on this long-awaited day. During the service I said my prayerswith the rabbi, waiting nervously to say my haftorah. Finally, the rabbi calledme up to the bima. My head was spinning. My dad whispered, "Go get 'em!" and Islowly walked up to the altar.
The place was silent, waiting to listen toevery word I said. I looked up at the crowd, and then said the three-page prayer.
It felt good when all my friends congratulated me later that afternoon.But when I looked up from my book into the joyful faces of my parents, sister,grandmother and aunts, I smiled because I had made my family proud. It's amazinghow one simple prayer can bring a family so much closer together.
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