We will sit, not with parents or grandparents, but ourselves, like we do on a Tuesday evening for a lazy supper
For all of my teenage-hood, a cousin and I would fly every Rosh Chodesh Nissan to help my grandmother prepare, with my family following later.
When we sat down together — three generations, sometimes four — there was a sense that the Seder could take us back to where it all began. On this night, our parents were children too. On this night we were all children, asking the Mah Nishtanah of the Great Tatte Leiben.
My grandfather would direct questions at participants, so you, out of the two dozen people there, felt recognized, essential. There were the songs we’d come to love. The reenactment of the matzah on our backs, the cChasal sSiddur Pesach dance outside, a lively circle of tired, happy men under the moon.
I know the primacy of grandparents at a Seder.
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