Next year in Jerusalem
Julie Yip-Williams died last week. When I heard the news, I had a panic attack at the elementary school. I was outside the gymnasium where the twins were taking their first kids' dance class, and I could peek in through square glass pane in the heavy, gray school door and see them spinning wildly to the music. The class has children from ages 5 through 11 and the twins were crazy dancers, in love with each other, each brother holding the hand of the other, laughing and twirling. They were hardly paying attention to the young teenager who was attempting to teach her unruly bunch the steps to the latest dance songs. When they came out to the water fountain for a drink, they were flushed and enthralled with themselves. They didn't know I was already there--I came early, unsure they would make it through dance class because Asher had announced he was definitely opposed that morning as he got on the bus, and I feared he would be out in the hallway, weeping and wondering where