Boston

I'm not sure what people are supposed to do on the Day of Atonement according to Halachaic law, Probably pray. I did my praying last night with my Bulgarian neighbor Lutzi. We went to a synagogue of Turkish Jews, a rare one in this predominantly Muslim neighborhood (I've begun dating an extraordinary woman who is Turkish, so this worked out as an educational field trip). Praying there was a very different experience from what I've known in Ashkenazi synagogues. for one: rather than touching the Torah scrolls lightly and kissing the fingers that touched them, people actually went ahead and kissed the Torah itself. I did so too, I frenched the Torah.

Now, however, I'm sitting here trying to clear space on my computer, and running into an old file with photos from Boston, where I had lived with Lin. I was beginning to forget Boston when we separated, I was letting Boston go with Lin. now I see I'll never forget it. Just as time is running out to sum up the year and see what lessons it taught, I'm learning something new, something about memory and renewal and the imperfection and power of both. I'm not sure what people are supposed to do on Yom Kippur. Thinking about Boston seems right.