At every Passover seder we ask
Mah nishtanoh?
Why is this different?
Memories of rituals and celebrations
unbidden
yet welcome.
So much preparation
Necha
dragged from reading,
me
torn from drawing
to help Mama.
Holidays begin at sundown.
The night before
Tata hid ten slices of bread
about the house
chametz we were sure to find.
Iser led the search,
candle in hand
to see in all the corners.
Lázaro, the feather
to sweep away the crumbs.
Necha, the wooden spoon
to hold all we found.
to carry it all away.
A somber business
done with smiling faces.
The following morning
Tata built a fire
chametz floated away
in smoke.
The house clean.
Our hearts purged.
Dressed in our best.
When we were little,
Necha and I dressed up
in Mama’s clothes
pretending
wishing
to be grown.
The table set
with the best dishes
seder plate
bitter herbs
greens for dipping
shank bone
hard boiled egg
charoset
matzoh
wine cups
filled with
sweetness
even for us children.
Lázaro asking
the Four Questions
Mah nishtanoh?
Why is this different?
The search for the afikomen.
Giggles.
Smiles.
Laughter.
Love.
Singing
songs
blessings.
Next year in Jerusalem!
But mah nishtanoh?
This year was different.