Tonight there will only be nine of us.
For my family, Passover, like other holidays, is mostly a great excuse for getting together. The tradition of the holidays is not lost, but it's secondary to family.
Dinner is called for 5:30, so a plan is set (for those of us in Manhattan) to meet at 4:30 under the clock at Grand Central.
"What time should we leave?" my mom asks.
"If we leave at 3:30, that'll give us more than enough time. It shouldn't take more than a half hour to get to Grand Central?" I respond.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"Won't there be a lot of traffic today?"
"There might be, but even if there is, if we leave an hour early we'll be there in time."
I think my mom would prefer to leave at 2 — just in case.
At 3, my mom is ready to leave. And at 3:15, she does.
I meet her at the bus stop at 3:35 or so, and we're at Grand Central at 4, a half hour before anyone else we're meeting.
As usual, Jill has prepared an abundance of great food. Matzo, chopped liver, creamed herring, vegetables and dip, and cheese for appetizers. Soup, beef tenderloin, salmon, chicken, spinach soufflé, butternut squash soufflé, yams, potatoes, and asparagus for dinner. Multiple cakes, cookies and fruit for dessert. There are only nine of us but there is enough food for twenty.
While the Seder ritual keeps getting briefer and briefer, it doesn't detract from the best part of Passover — family.
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