Rosh Hashanah Rituals with Peter
After the Rosh Hashanah services were over, after the last note of the shofar was blown on Rosh Hashanah, after its last magical note entered deeper into our souls, purifying, cleansing, and thrilling it, I tingled at its sound. I closed my eyes to experience the moment a bit longer. There was a momentary hush in the room, a deep sigh of contentment, and then the crescendo of the murmurs of the congregants wishing each other a Shana Tova, a healthy year, a sweet year.
My eyes searched for Peter in the men’s section. Ah! There he was. His face beaming with his habitual endearing smile, he headed towards me, stopping to wish others a good year. We hugged, kissed, and wished each other a happy New Year, a good year, a healthy and peaceful one. The doors of the synagogue had been opened wide. Slowly all descended the stairs down to the street. Once on street level, Peter tucked my hand into the crook of his arm. We walked towards our car. He opened the door for me to enter. And thus our yearly New Year ritual began.
“Where are we going?” I would ask.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he would answer, with a smile lingering upon his lips. But he really didn’t know.
I pause in my writings and look out of the bedroom window. Outside the dark skies are now tinged to a delicate pink. I hear a lone bird cheerfully warbling its early morning greeting, then in my mind I hear Peter’s gentle hello as he entered the house. I feel my heart flutter with sheer joy as I remember those days so many years ago when he was alive. He had the gift of being content, no matter what the circumstances. I pause as I remember how happy we were, how safe I felt with him by my side. I sip at my tea as I reminisce.
No, he really didn’t know where we were going. He allowed the car to lead us out of the busy hubbub of the city. We meandered through winding country roads. When we began to feel hungry, we started to keep an eye open for some place to eat. As if by magic, we would usually come across a charming town with a superb place to eat. Perhaps that happened when we stopped to ask for a recommendation. We ate at so many lovely places in many quaint towns, but never at the same town twice. I sometimes think that some divine power led the car each year to a new destination. Ah! I hear Peter chuckling. “What nonsense, Stella! Who was driving the car?”
“Okay! Okay, Peter! It was divine intervention and you!” I reply.
I imagine him shaking his head and chuckling away.
I look out of the window once more. It is complete daylight outside. The lit table lamp on the side of the bed is superfluous now. I must get up and switch it off. Besides, today is the second day of Rosh Hashanah, and I have to get myself ready for the synagogue. Shana Tova, my Peter, wherever you are. I miss you so much. A good year to you, my love…
Shana Tova to all! A good and healthy year!