Posted to Op-Ed on
by Altie Seigel, alta-b.blogspot.com
As the sound of rain makes pitter patter noises at my window, and it conjures up an image of little feet in padded slippers, pajama bottoms, steaming cups of hot cocoa, wind, howling outside, thunder so loud it makes you bolt upright in the middle of the night, while you were having a sweet sweet dream, lighting that strikes so fast and so bright, for a second you are not sure if it is day or night. Almost like a pilot that can't tell the difference between sky and ground. Fingers tapping at the keys so fast they are getting ahead of themselves and tripping over the words. Excitement building inside of you, this bubble that grows and grows and feels like its gonna burst. Shivering with excitement, shivering with cold, shivering with lack of sleep. So many things colide together to form one great picture.

Walking down Kingston with friends, so happy to be in their company once again. Hearing a language that is foreign, yet so so familiar. Out of place, yet belonging all the same. The scent in the air, that feeling, that knowledge that something is about to happen. The human mechanism that tries to prepare for a blow, and yet can never duck quick enough. It is coming, oh yes, and we can't stop it. These times, they are almost upon us. You know of what I speak. You know, because you think about it too.

Op-Ed: They’re coming….

by Altie Seigel, alta-b.blogspot.com

As the sound of rain makes pitter patter noises at my window, and it conjures up an image of little feet in padded slippers, pajama bottoms, steaming cups of hot cocoa, wind, howling outside, thunder so loud it makes you bolt upright in the middle of the night, while you were having a sweet sweet dream, lighting that strikes so fast and so bright, for a second you are not sure if it is day or night. Almost like a pilot that can’t tell the difference between sky and ground. Fingers tapping at the keys so fast they are getting ahead of themselves and tripping over the words. Excitement building inside of you, this bubble that grows and grows and feels like its gonna burst. Shivering with excitement, shivering with cold, shivering with lack of sleep. So many things colide together to form one great picture.

Walking down Kingston with friends, so happy to be in their company once again. Hearing a language that is foreign, yet so so familiar. Out of place, yet belonging all the same. The scent in the air, that feeling, that knowledge that something is about to happen. The human mechanism that tries to prepare for a blow, and yet can never duck quick enough. It is coming, oh yes, and we can’t stop it. These times, they are almost upon us. You know of what I speak. You know, because you think about it too.

These people that are a part of us. Brothers and sisters. This time of year, so new, and special, so old, and ancient. So nerve wracking, and refreshing. A G-d that forgives, a people that always returns. Sweetness and tears mixed together. Bodies pressed up against each other. Your space and my space becomes our space, there is no I in celebrate. We. We will do this together.

They are coming. It is coming. Soon this place will be swamped with them. And as much as I try to groan and be annoyed, I find myself excited, and looking forward to it. Cuz really, what is Tishrei without the Israeli’s?

Mental preparation, physical preparation. Shopping, and cooking, forgiveness, and cards. Greetings, and arrangements. Prayers, and desires. Repentance. Let it come, don’t stop it. This demon inside of us, pushing away our natural desire to cleave to G-d. Go against your nature. Fight it. Don’t give in.

As the storm rages, and inside it is nice and warm, I think about the next few weeks. I think of the Sukkos we will be sitting in. I shiver with cold.

But we have Rosh Hashana to get through before then. It’s coming…

THEY are coming. Let’s get ready.

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