Thursday, December 10th, 2020

We gather in the office hallway to light the first candle. There isn’t quite enough room for us to space properly. We do the best we can. Some of us wear masks. Some don’t. After some negotiation, the youngest worker, the bosses’ son, does the actual lighting and prayers. We respond appropriately. Our staff sings rather well. Someone has ordered donuts, jelly-filled with powdered sugar. They’re still warm. They’re delicious. I take the bus downtown after work. I think of getting another donut but don’t. I’m limiting myself to one a day. I get a coffee and sit down in the city square. It’s relatively quiet. The three young women that I saw sitting against a wall yesterday come by again. Two of them are carrying skateboards. A mother cat and two kittens come through a hole in a fence and sit outside the toy store. One kitten jumps on the mother repeatedly. She doesn’t react. The other kitten sits and watches them. A large black cat comes over and sits about a meter from them. The mother walks over, swats the black cat in the face, then sits down next to it. The kittens join them. A soldier with a yarmulke and backpack walks by and crouches in front of them. He wants them to play with him. They aren’t interested. He walks away. I head home after a while. When I get in, I put my bag down, take off my mask, and reach for the menorah and candles. They’re right where I left them last year. This time, I put a large piece of aluminum foil under the menorah. I had trouble getting the wax off the table last year. The matches are in the drawer. I haven’t used them since then. They’re still good. I say the blessings, light the candles, and put dinner together. The holiday begins.