Separation anxiety

With my precious time to nap fast running out thoughts manifest.

I think of how I will bring Miks here to lie with me a bit when she wakes up. Lately she loves nothing more than being as close to me as possible (especially moments after waking). Conversely, she hates nothing more than seeing me leave. It's separation anxiety phase and she also cries when daddy walks away. Even great uncle Jack from Israel trying to hand her back induced a melt down.

I think about this notion of separation and its link to the current festival of Passover. There must be a link. Many begin to occur to me. So instead of sleeping I lie wondering if the Jews leaving slavery behind in Egypt and heading into the unknown to wander for 40 years was a kind of separation. Though the anxiety they would have felt would have been a result of Pharaoh's henchmen hot on their heels. And possibly all the matzah they would be eating because there wasn't enough time for the dough to rise before they had to bolt. And possibly that they were now going to be responsible for an annual 8 days of matzah eating for all the generations of Jews that came after them. Yes, to recall this separation we eat matzah bread, matzah balls, matzah meal cake, matzah cereal and even matzah cous-cous (box as yet unopened). But as of this evening, I will be able to separate myself from this bread of our affliction, and I will feel no anxiety about it.

Pesach is one of the major festivals we celebrate as Jews and while it may be a sort of separation we are commemorating, what it does better than any other festival is bring people together. Families living all around the globe treck to find one another in order to come together around the Pesach table and read the story of our exodus from Egypt. People are invited to join other families' seders (meals) if they don't have their own. Ancient rituals are in abundance, some being given a child-friendly make-over and others being strictly adhered to. We sing, we dip our fingers in wine, we eat egg in salt water, we lean, we laugh, we hide matzah for the children to find and we make major abbreviations to the Haggadah so that we can get through the whole thing. Twice. And all this fun surrounded by people to whom we're related and hardly ever get to see!

This year our table was shared by family from Israel: Grampa M's brother Jack and his wife and daughter. Daniella is the youngest of four children and now, having returned to Israel, its her turn to join the army. The Israeli Defense Force, protectors of the land promised to the Jewish people by God after they wandered the desert for 40 years, free from slavery but without a home... Peace be with you cousin as you fight the good fight, though please God let there be no fighting!

And now my time of wondering through the blogosphere has come to an end. Time I separate with this post (har har har) and join with the sweet one moaning in the room next door... Peace be with us all!



(Note- this post only actually went up at 13:15. Time below was when I started. How time flies!)