On this First Night of Passover, 2010

How could I not dream of being in my paternal grandmother's kitchen today. The roasting, cooking, and making would be intense. My grandmother Janka, as grand maestro conducting her daughter Rozsa, and assorted sisters and their daughters. Easily six, maybe more in her kitchen, working to create a masterpiece meal. The chopping, slicing, paring, sorting and washing, taking out and putting away, placement, preparation, the small, significant decisions of each step, repeated over a lifetime which happen automatically, precisely, exactly, with such total assurance, conviction, that the act of the decision and the carrying it to completion is so ingrained, repeated thousands of times in a lifetime, that knowing how much salt to add, where to make the cut, the slice, knife skill, the apples, honey, raisins, the exact blend for Charoset, the color of the onions, the smell which tells how it tastes, matzo balls able to float in soup, the stirring to the right consistency, the mixing, knowing when it's done, exactly ready, timing, timing, hot staying hot, timing, all becomes part of who we are, what we do, how we make things happen, how we create. The thousands of unconscious decisions made necessary for creating the masterpiece meal. My grandmother Janka orchestrating.

This meal which is served at the long table, which is dressed in crisp, clean linen, with the finest china, crystal and silver as beautiful buttons and sparkling ornaments to her pressed linen dress. Wine, matzo, food telling our story sprung from slavery leaving captivity knowing again freedom, tasting sweet, bitter, salt. The familiarity and easiness of family, of Csalad, Mishpacha, relatives. Dressed finely as the table. Happy to be together. Grateful for this yearly time to hear our story, share our story, tell our story. We taste together, eat and drink together, enjoy together, laugh together, speak and share together. Eating the masterpiece orchestrated by my grandmother.

This meal made year after year, passed down mother to daughter, father to son, generation one Jew to the next, each partaking of Tradition, Haggadah, Knowledge of Liberation, Divine Intervention, Compassion, Awareness of Misfortune, Gratitude for Freedom. Gratitude for Life. Sharing Awareness, Happiness, Hope.

My grandmother at this table, before Hitler, before losing husband, son, sisters, brother, nieces, nephews, before the Ghetto, before needless death, before mass insanity, mass insanity, war, before leaving all she knew, before her long, deep depression. My grandmother vital, alive, passionate, sure, knowing, supremely capable.

My grandmother who I never knew.