These are all the things we won’t be doing tomorrow night:
Having a Passover Seder with 16 of our closest friends and family.
Eating Marj’s beef brisket, matzoh ball soup and my mom’s 50 different desserts.
Singing Dayenu in a heartfelt and celebratory manner, and later trying not to laugh when I catch Mira’s eyes during a make-funable reading passage.
Catching up with friends we haven’t seen in awhile, and generally marveling at the way holidays bring people from different corners of our lives together in a seamless and joyful way.
Dipping our finger in the wine ten times, eating parsley dipped in salt water or thinking, for the umpteenth time, that it is surprising how delicious matzoh is with haroset on top.
Thinking, yet again, that I really should find a synagogue to go to. That temple services used to give me such peace when I was young.
Taking pride in the beautiful enduring traditions of a world religion so small that a museum we went to recently decided not to feature it in its “World Religions” exhibit (but I did learn a lot about Taoism and Sikhism).
Complaining the next morning when my mom asks us to bring the rental table back to the store, but looking around the rooms of the house and marveling at the way they reliably, year after year, serve as a backdrop to these moments.
But we will be missing you.