It is the season of discovering self again and I know it is different than before. I know I am different than before. I have been scattered across floors and subways and pavements wiped clean with rain. I have scribbled my words in notebooks and breathed sounds through empty air. I have organized and reorganized, yet there are corners still untouched.
There are secrets still unfolding.
There are answers still untold.
And my soul is sitting atop the radiator with my chumash and siddur and words of Jewish wisdom and pictures for the times I need reminding.
I shouldn't be afraid. That's what he told me. But sometimes I forget to breathe.
I shouldn't be afraid.
It is the season of discovering self and I am going back to the beginning, to the questions of yes and no and the give and take and the in and out. I am laying myself out before me, before you, so I can learn it all again.
And as the clock ticks early morning, I will stand before the sunrise and the New York City stare, and I will cry out through the dew drops:
Here I am.
