In my office, which
is located in the far left corner of my house, my desk sits facing the window
which looks out to my Leland Cyprus trees that never change. On my desk is a small silver box
in the shape of a shell; it is engraved with the epigram ‘the tide always turns’. My
friend, Dorothea, whom I met at work, gave me this box as a gift. It was during one of the many
transitions we were going through and was meant to lift my spirits.
I am blessed with
many friends in my life. Each
friend knows different sides of me, except for my best friend of 36 years,
Meryl, who knows every side to me. She is the muse to my emotional self. But Dorothea- she is the muse to my
intellectual self. She has always
been my cheerleader and makes me believe in me. If it were up to Dorothea, I would be the CEO of the
company. Of course I think she has
an inflated sense of confidence in my abilities, nevertheless, it is always
good to know someone out there has faith in you. She is also very much like me, as well, and even though we
were raised in different religions- she a
Catholic and I a Jew, we both have very similar spiritual beliefs.
I look at my box
now and think of the one person whom I miss so much, always, but especially
during this time of year- my brother-in-law, Scott. And I can’t help but picture him sitting on his beach chair
watching the tide turning on the seashore next to his home. I can almost hear the peaceful cadence
of the waves if I close my eyes. That
seashore was obliterated during Hurricane Sandy this past October.
The tide always turns….I googled the expression and found that it is a metaphorical statement of the nature of life. It signifies that
good or bad, things change. It
reminds us that when things are going well, appreciate it while it’s happening,
because at any moment this can be altered. Conversely, when things are bad, endure, because eventually
the tides will turn and good things will come.
I remember the good times of Passover and Easter,
the times when we had our Seders, when my dad would slice the brisket, the way
he would read the Haggadah, in that false deep voice, trying to be funny. I remember when my mom used to dress us
up for Easter, even though we were Jewish, Easter bonnets and all. Both holidays represent a paradox of
persecution and redemption, of oppression and hope, of the nature of life. Both have eggs to symbolize new life.
They both come at the onset of spring when nature begins to bloom.
We resumed our Passover celebration this year,
without my brother-in-law, Scott, but thankfully with my sister-in-law Maryanne
and my two nieces- Pinot and Sancerre- her dogs. We recalled a past Seder that Scott was at when I had a
mouse in the house and he called it Mickey Mousekewitz and said that he
replaced Elijah that year. It was
bittersweet. This year, Lindsay
had to drink the grape juice instead of wine because she is pregnant.
Today, we will celebrate Easter with Maryanne and
our extended Kolenovsky family. We
will eat the traditional dish that Barbara makes of eggs, ricotta cheese,
oranges and lemons, from their Italian tradition that represents the good and
the bad, the sweet and the sour. Before we start to eat, Barbara will lead us in prayer and remember the ones from our families who are not with
us anymore. Last year we tearfully added Scott, my brother-in-law, to the list and Lindsay and Scott’s first baby, a boy, whom she
lost at 12 weeks of pregnancy.
This year we will add an aunt and Barbara’s dog, Pepper.
This Easter, Lindsay is full with child- my granddaughter,
due towards the end of spring. I
look at my box now, with its inscription.
It is empty inside, revealing nothing except the mystery of life. I will one day leave this box to my
granddaughter, along with the pearls my grandmother left to me. I hope that it will serve as a reminder
to her to always enjoy the good times and when the sad times occur, to know that the tide always turns.
Happy Passover and Happy Easter to all.
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