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  • Tara R.

ALL APOLOGIES...

So, guys, listen. This year has been tough. Like really tough. I’m thinking, maybe, last year, my atoning was subpar. Like, maybe, last year, my entitled 5780 mind wandered a bit while in shul -- perhaps thinking about how to squeeze in three break-the-fasts before The Bachelor season premiere, or about how a certain someone's Yom Kippur white dress was nice in theory, but it didn't really flatter her from the row behind. Or, perhaps, I snuck my temple tic-tacs in past security, and ate them all, alone, in the bathroom stall. These are just hypotheticals...

BUT this year, I am not messing around. This year, there's no phoning it in. On this high holy day, on this day of atonement, I leave no stone unturned. Perhaps Bryan Adams said it best, "Please forgive me, I know not what I do..." So...

Please forgive me...

... for recoiling from my own beloved offspring, and dare I say, holding my breath, when they let out a sudden sneeze.

Please forgive me...

...for looking at you like you have two heads, just because you were already in the elevator when it got to my floor.

Please forgive me...

...for being overly alert to all iphone notifications of potential armageddon and yet somehow missing the email about virtual parents’ night.

Please forgive me...

...for scowling when anyone offers me organic hand sanitizer.

Please forgive me... ... for going out to eat when my freezer was full of food, that I forgot to defrost, again, because I was reading comments on the Citizen app.

Please forgive me...

...for convincing my happy-eating-at-home friends to join me because, I swear, it's like dining in Paris...

Please forgive me...

…for asking the waiter if they'd make something not on the limited menu, because, like, you used to have it...

Please forgive me...

...for pretending to be casually enjoying a meal while stealthily scanning the street for cockroaches and crazies, like a cyborg assassin born of salad and Gucci loafers.

Please forgive me...

...for asking if we can move to a table that doesn't abut three lanes of Frogger-like traffic.

Please forgive me...

...for nodding empathetically as you say something about next year in Capri, when really all I can hear is the deafening roar of a semi-truck careening eastbound six inches behind you...

Please forgive me...

…for neglecting to put on my mask as we leave the table -- that is, for forgetting myself for one small moment in time -- suddenly feeling as free as Leo at the bow of the Titanic...

Please forgive me...

…for not being more careful with my belongings, and allowing said mask to disappear into thin air, or into the ethers of my purse...

Please forgive me...

...for pandemic walk-of-shaming it home, with my shirt tugged up above my nose…

Please forgive me...

... for Grub Hub-ing insomnia cookies at 11 pm for a grand total of $8.04 (despite remembering to leave a large tip.).

And lastly, please forgive me...

...for bemoaning my 5 hour car ride with over-stuffed, overtired, over sensory-loaded kids to greener pastures. Really, I'm not complaining. I am ever-grateful for the sound of their buoyant voices, for their health, and their laughter.

There's truly no other pod I'd rather be in...

Easy fast! Chag Semeach.

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