Is that how it’s going to be now? Life divided into before and after?
The menorah… the one Ima calls a monstrosity, which needs to be schlepped to the silver store for cleaning each year. Now it sits on its pedestal, the expanded windowsill behind the used-to-be-new green couch, staring into the open view of Carlyle Street.
Every year, a day before Chanukah, Abba clears away the picture frames, piles them up in a corner with 30 years’ worth of clutter, while Ima gasps with horror, and tries to ensure that her photo collection shouldn’t get ruined. One or two frames usually do.
We move the couch just a foot away from the windowsill so we can all squeeze behind it for hadlakah.
All year long the menorah sits in the breakfront, so I haven’t seen it in its true home in — how many years has it been? The last time I was back in this house for Chanukah was… well, it was before. Before Elchonon died.
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