My favorite part of the communal Hanukkah lighting Sunday night was speaking to a woman and her son about their previous Dwali.
I guess that’s ok. I’m over large Jewish community gatherings. Been 30 years. That’s long enough, no?
My 4 yo daughter had so much fun. She ran around doing activities with her close friend. And she was so excited to catch the chocolate Chanukah gelt flying down from the fire truck’s lift (they did it Go Big or Go Home style ;)).
I guess it’s ok. My kid and I experience everything differently. Why not this too?
I’m here to protect her. To guide her. To watch over her.
I still can’t get over how she has no clue as to my state of mind. My impression of events.
It used to be my impression was the impression. Now, I am in the backdrop of my daughter’s burgeoning life.
It’s so crazy. So complex.
In certain ways, so cool.
If I can just keep it together and stay grounded, my daughter will have a lovely upbringing.
This morning, I dropped her off at daycare. As I left for work, in the corner of my eye I saw a giant menorah in the shopping center in the distance.
That’s what my childhood is, that’s what my emotional life feels like at times when I feel low on self-care and high on job pressures and burn out.
My childhood, my emotional self, my rich Jewish upbringing—fading in the background, as I forge forward to provide for my daughter.