Passover Memories

Tonight we’ll sit around the table
While we’re reminiscing
Both about the Israelites
And those whom we are missing.

Every Seder takes me back
To those when I was young.
I can hear my Zadie’s voice,
The Hebrew that was sung.

I can taste my Nana’s sponge cake
And gefilte fish,
So much love invested into
Every single dish.

Horse radish my grandpa made
Was mirrored by his face –
Beet-red cheeks and crinkled eyes,
Such merriment in place.

The hard-boiled eggs were split in two;
My cousin got the white.
I consumed the yolk, of course,
In one comedic bite.

Second night my father’s folks
Played host and that was fun.
My grandpa hid the matzoh
To be found when we were done.

We all know where it was, though;
On a pillow he reclined,
The Afikomen tucked beneath
His trouser-clad behind.

He’d get up slightly, just to reach
A serving plate or wine;
Then all the cousins made a grab
To say, “This matzoh’s mine!”

My parents are no longer here,
My grandparents as well;
But if I close my eyes,
On Seders past I like to dwell.

Tonight we’ll gather for the meal
But if I tell the truth,
It will be lovely, but no match
For Seders of my youth.