I missed the kiddush.
And the kedusha, too.
For these days, I separate myself from community.
In the waiting room of my own private oneg.
How can I dress the Torah when I can barely dress myself?
How can I make the the matzoh ball soup when I have forgotten the recipe?
Sit with me in the room.
And walk me, when I am ready, out the door.
And bless these steps and this heart.
Pilgrim, on path of the ancestors.
Unarrived but on the great journey still.
