Author's Notes: For some reason, when I saw this prompt, I immediately thought of the song "Hava Nagila," even though I'm not Jewish, and thought up the following story. For those of you who are Jewish, please know that if I wrote anything that is not culturally correct, I do not intend to offend. I simply do not know enough about the culture to know when I need to look something up, except for obvious things like naming conventions and such.
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Seven-year-old Rina and her younger cousins played with the dreidel Rina had received for Hannukah in the corner, while her older sister Talya and the other adults celebrated Talya's wedding to their long-time neighbors' son, Levi.
The glass had been broken hours ago, and the feast was well and truly leftovers, the aromas long dissipated. Now, the wedding party and their adult guests danced with great enthusiasm as the band played "Hava Nagila." The chair handlers had become tired, so the bride and groom joined the other dancers on the floor.
The children were playing with grains of rice in the pot, and Rina's youngest cousin, chubby little Asher, had the largest pile in front of him. At barely three years old, Asher was old enough to keep from eating the raw grain, but not old enough to notice that the others were letting him win.
Just then, the music stopped, and Papa's voice came over the speakers. It was time to send off the bride and groom. The children gathered up their rice, stuffing most of it into the little sacks it came in (keeping out a handful to throw at the very first), while Rina pocketed her toy, and they all stood up to make their way to the center of the room.
Everyone gathered around Talya and Levi, then preceded them out the door of the wedding hall. Outside was a long, white limousine, and as Talya and Levi raced through the doors with smiles on their faces, Rina and the other children threw their rice while the adults cheered and waved, Asher, of course, throwing the most with a large grin on his face.
After Talya waved one last time from the back window of the limo, Rina's father came up behind her. "All right, little Rina," he said, stroking her curly brown hair and putting his hands on her shoulders with a kiss to her temple. "Time to get you home and go to bed."
"But Papa," she answered, "I'm not tired."
Despite her protest, Rina fell into a contented sleep before the car was even halfway home.
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Author's Notes: In case you worry that I forgot the happy part (which isn't really a question, considering that the story is about a wedding, but hey) Rina means "joy" in Hebrew.
Also, some Inkwells members mentioned my use of rice in the throwing, instead of bird seed or bubbles. I needed something for the children to have in the pot though, so bubbles wouldn't work, and bird seed is too varied in composition. I couldn't remember anything else at a wedding that was so numerous, so I used rice anyway.
Finally, there was also mention from the Inkwells group that they'd completely forgotten that it was a wedding until everyone went out to throw rice. That was deliberate on my part; my intention was to focus on the quiet happiness of the children, who are usually in the background at such large gatherings, and juxtaposing that with the loud and boistrous celebration going on (for this story, at least) in the background.
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