This past Sunday I attended the entire morning prayer service (Shacharit) for the first time in a while. I went to recite Kaddish, the memorial prayer, since it was my father’s yahrzeit (anniversary of death). It has been a while since I prayed the entire morning service. I started in middle school and did so through my mid-20s, at which point I became too busy going on job interviews and subsequently working full-time. But much like riding a bike, I picked up the siddur Sunday morning and recited the prayers as fluidly as if I was still reciting them daily. Like a cherished childhood friend, we picked up right where we left off.
Published by Gila Daman
Registered dietitian nutritionist who's learned you are more than what you eat—you are your thoughts. Certified yoga and Pilates instructor awakening hearts, as well as spines. Author of three books based on 3 different stages of life: The Roadmap Ends Here: Entering Adulthood, First Comes Self-Love, Then Comes Marriage, and She Pooped, I'm Pooped: Motherhood Year One. View all posts by Gila Daman