At three and a half, your glee
at stomping on a sand castle
is as vast as your desolation
when another kid won't share.

At thirty-eight, I seek
good novels and vinho verde
instead of chocolate-chip cookies
and Dora cartoons --

though when an email angers me            
I seethe just like you do.
But if I've carved grooves
of gratitude on the soft sand

of my heart, my tempests drain.
I can calm my own sea.
The sages of the Talmud say
if we teach you Torah

and how to make a living
and how to swim
then our work here is done.
I want to give you the Torah

of curiosity and kindness,
of noticing beauty everywhere.
The life's work of saying thanks
even for what shakes you.

The skill to navigate
your own turbulent waters,
to take deep breaths, to wake
into new reasons for gratitude.