#brachot

sufganiyot and latkes topped with sour cream and salmon sit on zack’s bench. they’re fresh, crisp and warm still. his friend, reggie, had dropped them off an hour ago after noticing zack’s absence from the synagogue. he himself had been tentative to attend but stayed committed to going. zack on the other day has been trapped in his fear and grief, too consuming to allow him to leave the house. 

he had thanked reggie and found an excuse to make him leave him alone. he didn’t particularly want to be alone, but being around someone in his depressed state wasn’t something he was dying to do. he promised reggie he’d go to temple tomorrow and have afternoon tea with him afterwards as as trade off for reggie not staying. 

he takes the plates and brings them down to the coffee table, placing them beside his menorah. he had been considering not lighting the candles this year in the wake of what had happened; a symbol of the loss of light in his home now. but he felt himself grow anxious as the time to light them came. it’s what he’s always done, so he must do it. 

he kneels down, lights the shamash, and takes it from its branch, beginning his blessings as he lights his candles, “baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel hanukkah.” he places the shamash back on the branch and continues to sing softly, “baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, she-asah nisim laavoteinu v’imoteinu bayamim hahaeim baz’man hazeh.” 

blessed are You, Adonai our G-d, Sovereign of all, who hallows us with mitzvot, commanding us to kindle the hanukkah lights.

blessed are You, Adonai our G-d, Sovereign of all, who performed wondrous deeds for our ancestors in days of old at this season.

he sits down on his feet, watching the three candles burn in front of him. he turns to the basin he left beside the table earlier, dipping his hands in to wash them.

“baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over the other, “asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav vitzivanu al n’tilat yadayim.”

blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with Your commandments, and command us concerning the washing of the hands.

he grabs the small towel next to the basin, drying his hands thoroughly. he looks at the plates and decides the order to eat them in; sufganiyot first, latkes second, to make things simple. he begins brachot.

“baruch atah Eloheinu Ruakh ha’olam, boret minei mizonot,” zack utters, moving his eyes to the latkes, “baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam shehakol niyah bidvaro.”

blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, Ruler of the universe, who creates various manners of food.

blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, Ruler of the universe, at whose word all came to be.

feeling like a kid again, rushing through brachot as his tum grumbles, his mother scolding him for being so impatient, zack grabs a sufganiyah and takes a bite. he moans at the taste; reggie’s family makes exquisite food, the jam is rich and plentiful and the outside is fried beautifully. zack reminds himself to thank the luckmans someday soon. he wants to save the second one, having only been gifted two, but the sweet taste and the comforting nostalgia are too tempting for zack’s pained soul. he quickly devours the second, the smooth jam and crisp exterior feeling as though it’s patching up his heart. 

he wipes his mouth, turning to the two latkes, stacked and topped off with decadent sour cream and freshly smoked salmon. his spirits have been indefinitely lifted, a large smile cracking across his lips as leans over the plate, ignoring utensils, desiring to eat as he did as a child, content and without shame in the privacy of his own home — only him and hashem. 

he breaks off a chunk of the latkes, using it to spread the sour cream, pulling a piece of salmon off and popping it in his mouth. he remains respectful of hashem, only taking bite sized pieces at a time, despite his desperation to scoff down the latkes. he quickly chews through each bite, his restraint only going so far. 

he cleans off the plate, stomach and heart full, before washing his hands again. drying them again, he stands up and sits himself down on the couch, relaxing into cushions. he hums softly, a smile of satisfaction on his lips as he gazes up at his ceiling. his hands idly rub his stomach as he feels content. the pain from before is still there but the warmth of hanukkah is putting it at bay, wrapping zack in a warm blanket, pressing a kiss to his forehead like his mother always did. 

placing his right hand over his eyes, he begins to utter, solely on instinct, “shema yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad. baruch shem kavod malchuto l’olam va-ed.” finishing the shema, he lowers his hand to his stomach, smiling some more. 

he loves hanukkah and all the traditions that come with it, he loves hashem, and he loves being jewish. despite the pain, he persists, as all jews have, and will continue to.