Good heavens, it is suddenly Fall.
I am remembering the day before first day of school when I was six: the new dress my mother bought me; the expectation of apacked lunch ( a first); my hair in pigtails. It was shortly after my parents' divorce. My mother had found work at a resort in the Poconos. Everything was new and strange and beautiful.

We are heading into Elul.
The griefs catapult into full view by the process of "cheshbon ha-nefesh" parading before me. Tonight, it is my inability, that year my mother, z'l, was dying in our house, to help her write her life story. I remember feeling so overwhelmed then, with all that needed to be done. Now, I see all the things I could have put aside to just sit with her a few evenings a week with a tape recorder. The worst: that she may have felt I did not value the stories of what she had been through in her life.

One of my big mistakes that can never be repaired.

Yes, Elul has inded arrived.
Wishing us all a good and fruitful month of preparation.