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  • Foto del escritorCes Heredia

Zoom Pesach, take two.

L'Shana Haba'ah B'Yerushalayim”, or “Next year in Israel”, is a phrase I’ve been saying every Passover for as long as I can remember. Each year is the same, we ask the 4 questions “Why is this day different than any other day?”, we hide the afikomen, we sing Dayenu, reminding ourselves how one good thing would’ve been enough but we got -and keep getting- more, we eat matzoh ball soup and we drink enough wine to celebrate the fact that we escaped and survived the evil claws of the Egyptian pharaoh thousands of years ago.


And then Covid-19 happened… What was once a big family gathering that brought together both the Jews and the Catholics in my family, turned into an uneventful day -my family was in no mood to hold a Seder in 2020- with a series of quick Zoom calls to my Jewish friends from all over, all of whom were spending the day alone (or, if they were lucky with a partner or parent), making do with whatever they could whip up for a last-minute virtual Seder. The four questions this year were suddenly different; “Mom, can you hear me?”, “Is my video getting glitchy?”, “Wait, how do I turn my video on?” and “How does Zoom even work?!”. Suddenly hoping that next year we’d spend Pesach in Israel wasn’t so important, and so the words changed to “next year in person”, hoping instead that by the next time the month of Nisan came around we’d be able to hug our moms and bubbies and gather around the kitchen once again to cook dinner as a family.


Except, that’s not exactly how things turned out. This year we get to do Zoom Seders all over again, and while we had a bit more time (and by “a bit”, I mean a whole year) to prepare for them it’s still not quite the same. The last 12 months have been a time of total and utter chaos. Between political drama, the realization that most governments and health systems worldwide weren’t as strong as they thought, the economic crisis, the rise in hate crimes, and the public health crisis it’s been… a lot.

The past year, I’ve stayed at home as much as possible, and have now gotten used to wearing a piece of fabric on my face for the sake of health and safety (which has inevitably led to the almost obsessive search for that one lipstick that wont smudge under my face masks), and have started carrying little bottles of antibacterial gel and rubbing alcohol in my bags. I haven’t seen my close friends or most of my family in a little over a year, and my anxiety “episode” rate has been higher than ever before since the “great unknown” that tends to be life feels even bigger and more unknown recently.


On the bright side though, it hasn’t all been bad for me. Lockdowns and quarantines forced me to take a break from life as I knew it and gave me a chance to make some much-needed life adjustments, much like a forced resent would on a glitchy smartphone. This extra time at home gave me the opportunity to have dinner with my parents and grandmother every day. I finally have the energy to pick their brains about everything from business to life to old-timey references that I am 30 years too young to understand. Before Covid, my rottweilers had never spent so much quality with their humans, since we were always running around working, cooking, cleaning… I’m guessing they love this new dynamic.


Yes, I know that not everyone has been nearly as lucky and privileged as I have been in this situation, but I can’t help feeling extremely thankful for the good things it has brought me. Thanks to covid I could finally sit down, get re-acquainted and re-develop my love for digital illustration. I finally had the time to read the obscene amount of books that had been building up on my nightstand, and I could finally take the time and space to focus on taking care of my mental health, instead of pushing it to the side and pretending like I’d eventually get to it (spoiler alert: I never did actually get to it before).


And so, just like that, it’s time to take the Seder plate out again, time to sing the story of our people leaving oppression behind and moving on to a path of uncertainty and hope. It’s the time of year for matzah ball soup, brisket and gefilte fish (are there really people out there who like that stuff?!) all things kosher for Passover. It’s also time to figure out how to make sure our Zoom setup doesn’t fail mid-Seder so that this time we can actually hear our parents and grandparents when they tell us we’re supposed to wait until a certain moment to drink the wine (oops?). Once again my phone is flooded with “chag sameach” texts and DMs and hopes that soon we won’t have to rely on the internet and videocalls to feel close to out loved ones anymore.


Chag Sameach, folks… Here’s to hoping we survive this plague mostly unscathed and we do this again, next year in person.


Xo,


C.

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