Two days before Passover I found the time to clean up my room. Up in my library I found my favorite box, which included all of the special letters that I have gotten since childhood. Although I knew that it would stop my cleaning for good, I decided to open the box and go back in time to 10th grade.

   There I met Michelle again. She was exactly like I remembered her- happy and full of faith. I opened the letters that she had sent me right after the Saturday I met her. I was never going to forget that Saturday.

   We were about 40 girls in 10th grade, whose lives were full pretty much of the same things- boys, diets and clothes. She knew our kind. She claimed to be exactly the same in our age. And she had the right strength and modesty to reach each and every one of us. She captured my heart by saying all the things that I´ve always wanted to hear, but never dared to ask for. She taught me how to speak to G-d, and how to hear his voice back to me. She made me realize what I´d really wanted to be. She taught me how to be full of real happiness.

   Here I was reading her letters. She was about 20 years old when she wrote them, the same as I was that Passover. I wanted to call her and tell her that only now I realized how much she had changed me. I wanted to tell her that only now, when I´m going through the same things that she had gone through when she was my age, I become aware of the fact that I have to thank her deeply. I have to thank her for teaching me what´s really important in life. For creating a new path for me, that has let me to the 20-year-old that I was that Passover.

   Instead of calling her, knowing how busy she might be two days before Passover, I directed my voice to G-d. The way she had taught me, I turned on my favorite Nigun, closed my eyes and cried with happiness. I knew that he heard, and somehow transferred the message to her. I could even see her smiling.