http://www.andbabymakes2.co.il
Two days before Leil haseder, the Passover Big Event and I
am finished for the evening. My dishes are
down from the attic, my food is purchased, and the house is cleaned. Tomorrow begins the race against time and the
nonstop cooking.
My girls watched tonight as I poured boiling water on all
surfaces, cleaned the refrigerator again, and left the fires burning on the
stove. They asked why and of course I
explained. While Rosh Hashana and Yom
Kippur are the two holidays which I most connect with my father, Passover is an
estrogen filled event.
My mother,
grandmother and savta all figure prominently.
My sister and I too have strong supporting roles. I cannot think of Pesach without the smell of
gribenes frying, my mother cooking, and my grandmother issuing orders (oops! directions)
from the table.
The Manishevitz white matzah
cartons hauled up from the basement with all the dishes and utensils; all of
which have a story; the wooden chopping bowl and chopper for the charoset,
which has been my annual contribution since I can remember, the cast iron grinder
that weighs a ton that belonged to my mother’s grandmother; the one that locked
onto the countertop and ground the chicken livers for the chopped liver, all
the crystal wine goblets which also belonged to my mother’s grandmother, and especially,
the one with etched grapes on it which was “mine” every year.
Pesach is my favorite time of year; the change of weather to
spring, the nearness of summer and vacation, the birth of new flowers, leaves,
and just the newness of it. Changing the
house over was always exciting for me.
Seven years ago, I decided that if I could do twins on my
own, I could take on Seder. The first
couple of years we ordered food. About four years ago, my mom and I took over the cooking. My mom and I are very different in the
kitchen: I am neat, organized and fast.
She is slow, methodical, makes an absolute mess and her food is amazing. No matter how perfect it is, she always finds
fault with it. I am a decent cook,
slightly above average even, but I don’t have the time or patience to spend the
day in the kitchen. Everything is tasty
but not like her food. Like they say on
the cooking shows you can taste her love and passion in every bite.
She isn’t here this year.
They aren’t coming. This is the
third time in my life that I am alone on Pesach. No matter how many people will be here
(twelve) no matter how much they mean to me (a lot), no matter how many sedarim
we’ve all done together (seven) they’re not my parents. While I know my girls will continue with our
traditions, it just isn’t the same without them. Hearing those stories all through my
childhood has instilled in me a sense of tradition and family and
continuity. I will do my best to share
the stories with my kids but I don’t have the treasures and the artifacts to
back them up. The chopping bowl is
probably somewhere in my mom’s basement still as might be the grinder. But it isn’t the same as taking it out and
using it. “My” wine glass broke and my
new wine glass isn’t the same. Without Bubby
and Saba it will be nice but not HOME.
This holiday, reminds me of my trek through motherhood. It is hard.
There is a lot of work and a lot of cooking, cleaning, preparing, changing,
sorting, and repeat. But that is part of
what makes it so special. That you get
to the other side. That you’ve created
something that is impossible to recreate: memories. This is what I believe is what I give my kids
in addition to love, hugs, nurturing and education. I give them a past, a context, a story and
memories for life. My childhood memories
of holidays with our family are a tremendous gift and give me strength and
hope. Our seder is very important to me
because it gives them that; something to remember for a lifetime.
I am just so sad my parents aren’t going to
be here to enjoy it with us and the girls won’t be able to share it with them
this year.
Wishing you all a beautiful, meaningful and memory laden
seder. Chag sameach
