I can barely remember back to this morning.
Ah, yes---up early enough to have fed cats, had breakfast, checked computer and signed petitions before a phone date about Shavuot at Isabella Freedman. It feels strange indeed to be contemplating Shavuot before Pesach has happened, but life has gotten strange altogether. I had the delight of attending a class about the internal structure of the Haggadah and the Pesach seder, then dashed to a long-overdue tea-visit with a friend, and careened home in time to give cats dinner.
Then more email, etc., and thinking about tomorrow night's class.
I also began writing the rough draft of an essay requested for a listserve of my college class---Much too long and cumbersome; will need re-working.
I have never tried to describe my early life before. Perhaps for the first time, I got a picture of how necessary it felt all the years I was growing up that I be "mature for my age" so as not to burden my divorced mother. Not her fault: circumstantial, and a product of the time. Still, I have spent much of the rest of my years trying to catch up with myself and put all the pieces together harmoniously. Sometimes I succeed.
Approaching Pesach...I miss Zalman.
I notice how differently community relates. Often, especially in the early years, crowds of folks would congregate here to be of any kind of help, just so they could be near Zalman---I couldn't blame them: such a Sun-King Leo!
He would often send them to help me. I appreciated the help tremendously, though I may not have made folks feel as appreciated as they truly were.
Now, it's a handful of good people, many much more busy in their own lives. Nothing to gain: I do not radiate like he did, though I shed my own light. The ones who offer to help now truly do it with no hope of immediate gain from their mitzvah.
An interesting lesson.
Wishing us all the deep sleep of a blessed night.