Leaving the Competition    

Purim 5784 is long gone. There is still one mini challah from Mrs. Levine, who lives around the corner and always sends her homemade sweet challah. I hid the pareve bittersweet chocolate bar for Shabbos, and the five mini Snapples (clearly the drink of choice or on sale this year) should be finished soon.

It’s time to look forward to the next gift from the One Above, the Yom Tov of Pesach. I will dispense with the possible negative rhetoric that sometimes accompanies that statement, and enumerate only positive and excited thoughts. I love my Pesach china, with its dark red-and-gold trim. It comes with every possible size dish, mini dessert dishes, stunning teapot, creamer, and sugar, and every size and shape of serving bowls and platters. My flatware is my grandmother’s from Europe, with oversized soup spoons that seem more appropriate as serving spoons, and, of course, it carries the memories of all the Sedorim growing up in my parents’ house. Then there are the lists — every year I’m certain I’d written it all down, recording just how much matzah I used, and how many gallons of vegetable oil I needed for the never-ending frying. I’m sure I made the list, but where did I put it? Time to take out a new shiny notebook and start my what-to-clean, when-to-clean, what-to-buy, when-to-buy, what-to-cook, and when-to-cook lists!

But wait! I’m not making the Sedorim; I have no guests this year. I’ve been invited to share the Sedorim with my children at their home. The calendar does not give my Israeli family enough time to travel back for their commitments in Israel. So why is it that I’m not relieved that no lists are required? What of the competition regarding how many pounds of potatoes, how many dozens of eggs, how many gallons of oil, how many cases of onions? I can’t even enter. I’m not sure if four kosher l’Pesach yogurts and maybe a dozen eggs for Erev Yom Tov even qualify for an entry form!

It will be very special to hear grandchildren say the Mah Nishtanah. The older ones have prepared divrei Torah and of course, I can’t wait for the seemingly never-determined discussion of how many k’zeisim are correct for real horseradish versus romaine lettuce. All will bring me much joy and nachas. But I picture the beautiful tablecloth my husband bought the year the table had to be expanded and nothing we had would fit. Then there are the milchig Corelle dishes with the blue trim and, okay, little kittens in the design. (It was on sale and is so perfect for Pesach!) No point emptying the Pesach cabinets of all the zippered plastic cases with the dishes for Erev Yom Tov and perhaps Chol Hamoed at home. Paper will be so much more practical. And the three-tier Seder plate — do I unwrap it and take it with me?