Today was a real shabbos---the day felt long and lovely, like a one-and-a-half day.
I got to go to shul, seeing friends and eating lunch there.
I got to walk at Viele Lake where I noticed that most of the geese were hanging out two-by-two rather than in groups. Then I noticed that one of them was bringing bits of straw and leaf to one spot, while the second goose seemed to be standing guard. As I stayed watching quietly, I got it: she was beginning to build a nest, right at the edge of the lake. Her co-goose was making sure nothing disturbed her as she concentrated.
Zalman loved counting the goslings as they hatched in the summer.
The last time we visited the park together was only within the last week or so of his life whenShalvi was visiting. Zalman made it from the car to the little gazebo, then sat. Pigeons visited; the mud swallows gave muffled chirps from their nests above our heads. A family of geese entered the gazebo and paraded right by Zalman's feet, showing him the new goslings.
Something in me is gently shifting from feeling my heart break, when I am in a situation that we used to enjoy together, to feeling my heart warm with appreciaton that we did indeed enjoy this together---what a privilege and a gift.
This week I begin thinking about sorting what must leave the house for Pesach, or be corralled into its own spot for the holiday. (The truth is that this is less about the kitchen and more about the very-undone-paper-things on my desk.) The fact that I do this every single year has not, ever, left me squeaky clean. That's the nature of hametz: if a little grain is left, it regrows itself.
And how do I sort out what in me is fermented and no longer appropriate, and should leave the premises or be somehow contained?
It's when I begin itching about those things that I know Pesach is coming closer.
I wish us all a good and fruitful week.