Neither packing nor a pandemic can stop Pesach for me.
The wine-stained,, dog-eared Maxwell House Haggadahs I have used for 60 years sit on my table like always, but things are not like always.
Setting my Passover table for the last time in this house I am filled with so many feelings.
Though it is a small seder meal with Hersh and Stanley, the spirit of all who have shared this table over these many years is deeply felt.
On this holiday more than others I am reminded of the balebosteh’s in my family whose traditions I lovingly carry on still. My table is filled with memories of all those who have physically sat here and those whose presence is always felt from beloved objects that were once theirs.
Now my table is set with the tangible evidence of holidays past, and in the flurry of packing, I made sure to leave out just the right amount for my seder. There is china from grandmothers, mothers in-laws, great aunts, and great grandmothers; the sterling I will use was my grandmother’s, the same ones she used at holidays when I was a child and which she entertained with as a young woman in the 1930’s. The ceremonial Miriam’s Cup is from a beloved aunt and my great grandfather, whose life-size painting hangs over my fireplace, will have his polished silver kiddush cup grace the table. This year the seder plate I will use is purposely my deeply missed mother’s.
Though my table is just for 2 this year, it is truly quite filled. My traditions are here with me. And they will come with me wherever I go.
To all who celebrate, I wish you a joyous, meaningful, and reflective seder.