That One Moment

Why?

Why not?

Why now?

When, then?

Why me?

Why not me?

Would I want it for another?

I wouldn’t.

Can I do it?

I can.

Do I want to?

Not really.

Will I?

I will.

…

Thank you.

I sit and stare, the warmth of the Hanukkah flames piercing my soul.

The tears, an outpour from within.

It is me. It is you. It is all of us. Whatever “it” is, we all have something. The thing fighting its way to the front of our minds, the thing that makes itself known juuust when we were starting to forget.

I stare intently, yet briefly. 

I get up. 

Who can sit for thirty minutes when the kids are coming in twenty? The sambusak need cooking, the prizes need organizing, the last minute things need last minute-ing.

Back to the back of my mind it goes. The platters are set, the music chosen, the flowers arranged. 

The rush of life comes rushing forth. The moment has passed. 

And yet, Hashem knows. 

Without my most perfect words, without your most eloquent speech, without us saying it all, Hashem knows. He can finish our sentences, articulate our thoughts, discern what's beneath.

That moment was enough, that one flicker of the flame making a lasting impression on our souls. 

That one moment, enough to create a connection, to strengthen us from within. 

That one moment, breathing life into all the moments.