I am embarking on a trip tomorrow to Newton, MA for the weekend to go to the bar-mitzvah of the son of a dear friend. And staying with another dear friend. And I already miss my family. Will my daughter be angry with me on Sunday when I return? Probably. My middle son is already sad; I told him last week would be the last time we have home-made challah until after Pesach. I will buy my family some store challah today. My son wanted to make the challah himself this week. Well, I suppose I could have kept him out of school and spent all morning baking challah with him, and then needing to clean the kitchen from the mess. They’ll live (won’t they?).
Then there are these childhood memories that are coming back. This is the city in which I grew up. The synagogue of the bar-mitzvah, one that I have not been to in many years, is the one I went to as a child. I am remembering lonely childhood feelings. Even though I will be with friends, I am feeling the lonely feelings crop up. Happens.
The tulip in the upper right photo was my neighbor’s. Yesterday, a nanny apologized to me as she scolded the little girl in her care that had picked the tulip. My daughter, whose hand is in the little photo, was distressed and tried to “replant” the tulip.