My First Christmas Tree

by Ione Heigham

At age 5 I called myself half and half, Like the milk I would explain to my friends, People would ask about Jesus, I would say he is not the one for me At 8 my Zayda passed away, We flew down to Florida, I did not understand why the mirrors were covered or why we put rocks on his grave, My mother began to light the candle At 9 I attended hebrew school for the first time As the other kids chanted prayers I struggled through the alphabet To non-Jews I was a Jew, To Jews I was interfaith At 13 I became a bat mitzvah, My dad smiled on the bima because he was not allowed to say the prayers Although he knew them by heart from the tons of services he had attended My rabbi lectured me on my father’s sacrifice, My father said don’t listen to him At 14 I had my first kiss, A nice Jewish boy named Ezekiel My friends giggled and talked about how they would never date a non-Jew But my father was a non-Jew At 17 I decorated my first Christmas Tree My sister, mother and I strung popcorn as we watched Fiddler on the Roof The star of david ornament I made in fourth grade hung near the base, At the top an angel my bubbe had knit At 18 I attend hillel, I hear that my peers parents wouldn’t support an interfaith marriage, Despite my own connection to Judaism, Despite their well intentioned poem, Despite the inclusive community, I feel uncomfortable I am not Christian, not an inch or an ounce Can I be half and half, if half of me is nothing? At age 5 I called myself half and half, Like the milk I would explain to my friends, People would ask about Jesus, I would say he is not the one for me At 8 my Zayda passed away, We flew down to Florida, I did not understand why the mirrors were covered or why we put rocks on his grave, My mother began to light the candle At 9 I attended hebrew school for the first time As the other kids chanted prayers I struggled through the alphabet To non-Jews I was a Jew, To Jews I was interfaith At 13 I became a bat mitzvah, My dad smiled on the bima because he was not allowed to say the prayers Although he knew them by heart from the tons of services he had attended My rabbi lectured me on my father’s sacrifice, My father said don’t listen to him At 14 I had my first kiss, A nice Jewish boy named Ezekiel My friends giggled and talked about how they would never date a non-Jew But my father was a non-Jew At 17 I decorated my first Christmas Tree My sister, mother and I strung popcorn as we watched Fiddler on the Roof The star of david ornament I made in fourth grade hung near the base, At the top an angel my bubbe had knit At 18 I attend hillel, I hear that my peers parents wouldn’t support an interfaith marriage, Despite my own connection to Judaism, Despite their well intentioned poem, Despite the inclusive community, I feel uncomfortable I am not Christian, not an inch or an ounce Can I be half and half, if half of me is nothing?