Chanukah

All Poems, Chanukah, Food, Holidays, Humor, Prose/memoir, Stories

Leftover Latkes

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My love and I have been eating potato latkes for weeks.
Sometimes with sourcream, applesauce.
Sometimes kugel, broccoli.
Why? you might ask.
Chanukah’s quite over.
True. But I must have fried enough for a football team.
Twelve companions for brunch could not munch
to the finish line.
So, into the freezer went several uneaten batches.
The caveat: the two of us had to consume them sooner rather than later.
Why is that?
They were stored in the freezer two days before the party.
They could easily get buried beneath breads, beans, berries.
Unfound, they’d lose flavor, or worse, dehydrate, oxidize.
Like shrunken ice cubes left too long in the bin.
Little ghosts of themselves requiring regular replacement.
But, I digress in the service of justification.
So, our carefully wrapped bundles burrowed into ice.
To be dug out four times post party for main courses.
Lucky for us, we relish leftovers.
Each bite a recollection of a laugh, smile, story.
No turning up noses.
No refusals.
No distain.
And, if fortune smiles upon us,
we’ll have unearthed all the latkes before Christmas!

Lynn Benjamin
December 23, 2021

 

Adult Children, All Poems, Chanukah, Family, Holidays, Miracles, Stories

Day of Three Wonders

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Chanukah is a holiday of inspiration.
Reminding us that miracles happen.
That the world can be wondrous.
If we open our senses.
Invite the extraordinary.
Despite the chill, overcast sky,
I count three wonders today.
The linden tree, now bare,
lodging hundreds of small black leaves with wings.
Starlings, silhouettes against gray clouds.
The second, a bright spot of yellow.
A maple tree holding tight its foliage.
Candles illuminating the gloom.
And finally, the appearance of Buttercup, a van.
Inside,  Zev, our son.
After two years.
The bell ringing.
Nine fifteen.
Door opening.
There he stands.
Framed.
Hugs.
I’m curious.
Does he regard this visit a wonder, too?

Lynn Benjamin
November 30, 2021

Adult Children, All Poems, Birth, Chanukah, Emotions, Family, Grandchildren, Health/Illness, Holidays, Miracles, Panic, Prose/memoir, Stories

Faraway

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Have you ever been in that space?
When all is normal till it isn’t?
When you’re going about your routine?
Get an unexpected call?
Starting your heart racing?
Setting off shallow breaths?
Beating away panic?
Giving you a few minutes to swallow the information?
Think?
Decide what to put off?
Change?
You’re not where you just were?
But not yet ready to act?
Somewhere between?
Bereft of time, season?
Alone in the present?
Last night,  one of those moments.
Just settled on the couch.
Watching a comedy.
About to chat with a son.
Light candles with his children.
When my cell across the room chimed.
Did a second son want to light candles, too?
Join our family chat?
No.
He was dropping off his girls at a neighbor’s.
Then driving back to the hospital.
His wife, needing emergency C section.
Earlier than the one scheduled for later in the month.
Could we come?
Of course, no question.
But at the click, I faded.
Drifted faraway.
To-do.
Postpone.
Cancel.
Pack.
Think.
Read texts.
Change hospitals.
Lungs underdeveloped.
Maybe damage.
Shower.
Break spell.
Sleep, or, at least, try.
Drive in the morning.
With our youngest son.
There’s the miracle.
Zev, with us.

Lynn Benjamin
December 3, 2021

Adult Children, All Poems, Birth, Birthdays, Chanukah, Family, Holidays, Memories, Stories, Wisdom

Forty-Five Years Ago: To Danny

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December 18, 1976
26 Kislev, 5737

Forty-five years ago.
The day, the same.
Saturday.
But the time, different.
Decembers,  cold then.
Not balmy like today.
From my window at the hospital,
snow softly fell.
Cold air wafted in with each gust.
The corner room, not well insulated.
I put extra blankets on you and me.
We both shivered, starting to know each other.
It was the third day of Chanukah.
We missed the lighting.
No candles in a maternity ward.
But, you were my miracle.
Never mind Macabees.
Blond fuzz, pink cheeks, tiny feet.
A little gift I’d soon deliver to many
waiting arms.
The same ones lifting you through childhood.
Supporting me, too.
Never underestimate the value of carrying babies.
Arms are safety nets freeing them to explore,
go far, fulfill dreams.
And, so you have.

Lynn Benjamin
December 18, 2021
14 Tevet 5782