"What are you doing here??"
Thursday, September 13, 2007
That's the question I've answered about 50 times today. I'm Jewish. It's Rosh Hashanah. I'm not supposed to be at work today. But I have my reasons...
Picture it. New York, September 2000. I lived on the Upper West Side in my shoebox of an apartment. It was Rosh Hashanah in the middle of the week and while I hadn't gone home to Boston, I'd felt like I should take the day off. I'm a Jew. It's Rosh Hashanah...it's the right thing to do. I didn't have anywhere to go for services or even for dinner that evening but it obviously wasn't a free day to wander around the city or go to yoga or run all the errands that I'd yet to get done. So I sat on my fire escape (which, by the way, increased the square footage of my apartment greatly) and called home. As I spoke to each member of my family, wishing them a Happy New Year, I could hear the sounds of a Jewish family gathering in the background and, while I only lived 3 1/2 hours away, in that moment I felt deeply homesick. I longed to eat my mother's home cooking, to sit with my cousins around the dinner table, to get my grammy's kisses. I missed sitting in temple and getting yelled at by my mom because my sister and I were inappropriately laughing. I even missed the chaos of too many people in the kitchen at once and cleaning up after everyone left. I missed that feeling of familiarity - of knowing that on certain days of the year, there were certain things that were going to happen, certain ways that would mark our celebration. I hung up the phone and sat on my balcony (I mean fire escape) staring out over Columbus Avenue wondering if there would ever be a time that I would know what to do when it came time to celebrate Rosh Hashanah without my family. I sat on my fire escape and cried.
It's hard not to feel even further away in LA, to long to be with family that much more. I know there are people grateful for the distance from their parents or their in-laws. But in these moments, I most certainly am not. I long for the familiarity of those things - even if it includes some chaos and silly family dynamics. I long for the feeling of home.
Every year when we go to our friends, Lori and Yoni, for Break the fast or read from the Hagadah entitled "Passover according to Meesh", I feel a little sense of home. And last night, as I ran around my kitchen like a crazy person, trying to prepare dinner, I think that I came a little bit closer to figuring out the holidays away from our families. Ten friends gathered to share food and wine and laughter. Our home was filled with warmth and love. There's not much more you can ask for.
But today. Well, today I'm feeling homesick all over. I don't have a temple here. We could absolutely find one - I just haven't been so inclined. And the idea of spending the holiday at home without any sense of purpose, without the proper sounds and smells of Rosh Hashanah just brings me right back to that fire escape overlooking Columbus.
So that's what I'm doing here.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:34 AM
Labels: homesick
