Nearly every morning, in every season, David and I walk the dog. It's our favorite 30 minutes of the day, that sacred sliver of uninterrupted time after the kids have gone to school and before the demands of work, errands, projects and chores pull us in opposite directions.
Under sunny skies or on snow-packed sidewalks, our route is always the same. Gus leads the way down our block on West 104th Street, across Riverside Drive and then down the stairs into Riverside Park. We take Gus off the leash for the half-mile loop on the promenade along the West Side Highway, around the playground at 97th Street and then back through a wooded area of the park (so we can feel like we're in nature.)
One spring morning, beneath the pink pompoms of a blossoming cherry tree, we noticed a man pointing toward a branch. Curious, we followed his finger until we could see a perfect robin's nest. As we looked on, a female robin approached and we were amazed to see three little beaks peek up over the top of the nest, opening excitedly as they waited for their breakfast.
"Just like when we come home from a big shopping trip at Fairway," I joked.
The robin's nest became a must-see on our morning walk. We would always stop and look for their beaks or feathers to make sure that the baby birds were okay. One day, as the petals covered the ground and the leaves turned to bright green, we saw that one of the baby birds had gotten out of the nest and was perched on the tree branch as the mommy robin watched from a nearby ledge.
"It's like the first time Mara took the subway alone," David said.
Days later, we saw two robins out of their nest and no sign of the mom.
"It just feels too soon," I said as we kept walking.
The following day, a heavy rain interrupted our usual walk. But when the skies cleared in the afternoon, I took Gus out to get some exercise...and to check on the birds. When we reached the tree, I spotted the nest. All was quiet as I approached the branch. I stood on my tip toes to peek inside. It was empty. All three baby robins were on their way.
Gus and I continued our walk, past the Dinosaur Playground where Mara and Lily had spent countless hours swinging and sliding and playing in the sprinklers. We walked past the soccer fields where David had coached the girls' teams and then along the promenade where they had learned to ride bikes. We passed by the Swing-a-Ring area where they hung and flipped and perfected their tandem swing. We crossed over the lawn where we used to play catch and practice softball and lacrosse. By the time we reached the Tot Lot, across from our apartment, I was a bit misty-eyed.
In just two years, one of our birds will be leaving the nest when she heads off to college. In four years, the nest will be empty. Granted, with their social lives and sports teams and school activities, Mara and Lily are not around as much these days. And when they are, they're often behind closed doors or under headphones or in front of a screen. But they're home. At least for a few more years.
Which brings me to my adult bat mitzvah.
The ceremony was scheduled for the fall of 2015 - right around my 50th birthday - so I was thrilled to usher in this milestone in meaningful way (and to have a built-in theme for my party!) When I embarked on this leg of my spiritual journey seven months ago, my goal was to study Hebrew, read from the Torah and, like the rest of my immediate family members, become a Jewish adult. Because we'd now have the shared experience of this Jewish rite of passage, I sincerely hoped that my becoming an adult bat mitzvah would bring the family closer together.
But our family synagogue, Ansche Chesed, doesn't offer an adult bat mitzvah program (yet) so I enrolled in a course at Romemu, a Renewal Judaism congregation. In order to participate, I had to become a member. So I belong to two synagogues - one with the family and one on my own. As part of the class, I was encouraged to attend Friday night and Saturday morning services. I enjoy the music and the spirituality at Romemu and thought the family might like it too. They did not. So I was going to services alone or with friends while the family stayed home.
The class met every Monday night from 6:30-9:30 (although I would leave for class at 6 and return home by about 10:15) and there was an hour-long Hebrew class on Sunday mornings. As expected, there was also quite a bit of homework, including meeting with a study partner outside of class.
Okay, so I know it wasn't like I was moving to Israel to live on a kibbutz for two years, but it felt like a lot of time away. And after I saw that empty nest, I decided that I really want to pursue activities that keep me closer to the home. So I made the decision to withdraw from the class and postpone becoming an adult bat mitzvah...for now.
During my seven months of study, I met some incredible, inspirational people. I learned to read Hebrew (although I need to keep practicing!) I wrote a midrash on the Binding of Isaac that will be published in the 2014 Jewish Women's Literary Annual. And I created my own Haggadah and hosted a Passover Seder which was a big hit among our guests who ranged in age from 4 to 79. I launched this 'blog and plan to keep writing about my coming of [middle] age experiences. And I will try to make sure my spiritual practice fits into the family flow instead of trying to fight the current.
Meanwhile, any 50th birthday party theme suggestions are welcome.
