Noch a Pesach Tzugekumen

its 2:52 am motzei Pesach- post kitchen change over and pizza. i sit here struggling with a strong sense of ambivalence. as if Pesach left without saying goodbye. as if no matter how hard i tried to hold on - it slipped away. i feel this way every year but each time it hits me hard. we sit around the table, learning, singing, connecting to each other - really farbrenging. the atmosphere is beyond this world - i can really believe that it is Moshiach's Seuda. each time as the table gets quiet or the conversation starts to turn - a thought comes to me, a piece of chassidus, something to share. and i'm giving the strength and all the right words to speak it. we sing and there is something special there - everyone can feel it. we remind each other of the tremendous power these last moments of Pesach hold and how they give us the strength to leave our maytzarim and experience cherus. we speak of hiskashrus, of hachlatas, of gilui moshiach. we start seder niggunim - sharing a vort, a story, something about each Rebbe. we reach the Frierdiker Rebbe - America is Nit Andersht - we sing the Benoni niggun. geula is palpable. we're almost there. just one more push, one song, one word. and then a car honks. once, twice, there is a knock at the door. i want to say go away - we're not finished - this is so special, don't ruin it! i want to lock the door and keep everyone inside. i want us to stay on this level, in this moment - forever. we dont even have time to tell a story of the Rebbe. we sing Tzama Lecha Nafshi - and amazingly - we really sing it. despite the cars and families waiting, the dishes calling, the details pulling at us - we live out the moment. and then its silent. there are just three of us left - staring at a table full of dishes, half eaten matza, empty cups of wine. i wont bentch - i wont end it. this is my island in time - the culmination of weeks of work - inside and out. these are the priceless experiences of our personal exodus. one last guest must be taken home. with a forced smile i assure her it is no problem and rummage for my keys. but i dont want to get in the car - to leave my Pesach table. when i get back its time to clean, to put things back to how they were. but it feels fake and so unholy. the packed dishes weigh heavy on my heart. i am not ready for the to-do list, the programs, the work - but their time has come. so i reach deep inside - past ambivalence and sadness, past inspiration and warmth. until i reach mobility - the drive that will propel me forward. the boost that encourages me - you've accomplished another Pesach- it will always be yours.
now what will you do with it?