The first tips of our backyard vista are crimson. They days are warm but the nights are chilly. We bought cider at the market.
We spent Yom Kippur in synagogue services; the week before, Rosh Hashanah. In a moment of impatience for the long quietude, E climbed up in my lap. She fingered my locket.
Do you keep pictures in there? she asked, knowing the answer.
No, I shook my head.
What do you keep in there?
"All my love," I whispered.
She poked the pendant. All your prayers are in there? She giggled at her juxtaposition of language and environment.
I just smiled. I thought: all my love and all my prayers - they're the same thing.
So now my prayers are playing in the back yard. The leaves are smoldering. We've done our best for the past year and set it behind us. And a cool breeze blows a fresh new season into our arms.