I was deep inside the story of the Megillah, delighting in words I hadn’t focused on for so long
The echo of our footsteps was a cliché, yet it sounded different from the times I had come home from a wedding late at night.
There was a wash of something portending light beyond the silent buildings, and we hurried.
Purim morning, and we were going to daven with a neitz minyan.
Me, I’m a night owl. My alarm clock is a brutal necessity as the mother of children who need to catch buses and the school bell. Convincing me to willingly get out of bed one minute earlier than necessary is not for the fainthearted — yet here I was, mind coming into focus as I clutched tissues and Megillah and looked at my watch again.
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