“”What is it, my dear?”
“Ah, how shall we bear it?”
“This. For so short a time. How can we sleep this time away?”
“We can be quiet together, and pretend – since it is only the beginning – that we have all the time in the world.”
“And every day we shall have less. And then none.””
A. S. Byatt
Life has moved so oddly, so randomly, this last six months. Passover last year was a hectic, jolly affair at our apartment on Warren Avenue with much thought, a lot of chat and barely a Jew in sight. It was a healing, starting over sort of evening. Passover this year was a much more sober thing to behold: Our good friend, Bob, had passed only the Sunday before and there was just too much going on at our house so far as demolition and destruction in the kitchen that a meal there was out of the question.
Nick, Roderick, Lindsey, Gabe and myself had date-studded roast and gefilte fish salads and swapped some chat standing in the kitchen at Dawn's. It was good. It was just different. So here's to next year in a finished house...