I sreaked my hair with blue, painted my nails blue, wore blue eye makeup and clothing, and went to hear the Megilla dressed as...The Blues.
I donated seriously to both congregations in honor of the holiday.
Something felt not-right, not-in-place.
Midway through following the Megilla, I realized what:
---instead of food goodies, for many years we printed out cards listing a few local charities. We asksed friends and fellow congregants to put a checkmark beside the one they wanted us to donateto in their honor, and I did so the very next day, tallying up the checkmarks
---and I always brought my adoptive father Sam's beautiful, old worn Megillah scroll, and read from that.
This year, I forgot both, as if they had never been---until I was at shul. Then I was suddenly stricken with memory, and bereft. Bafore I go upstairs to sleep, I will go downstairs and fetch Sam's megillah.
This year, the Megillah of Esther sounded too terribly similar to the evening news.
All I can hope for is as good an ending without the bloody revenge. And may it come soon.