It hit me tonight that it’s been a year.

Last year, we didn’t gather together around big family Seder tables. Last year the streets were quiet, pin-drop quiet. You could cut through the silence with your footsteps at 9pm at night. The city was hushed, like after a big snow storm. Except it’s Melbourne and it never snows. It was strange.

And now it’s Pesach (Passover) again. It’s a whole year later, a year since this Corona stuff shifted the way we think, altered the way we do everyday things. I feel five years older than I did last Pesach. And maybe even a smidgen wiser. Actually, I feel a lot more, in general, I think. It’s good to feel. But it also comes with a sacrifice. I think we all know about sacrifices.

I remember doing some last minute errands last Pesach. Running to get plastic plates and napkins for our Seder table. I chose the nicest plastic plates I could find — teal and gold rim, and picked out napkins and gold cutlery to match. I wanted to set our table beautifully, and I did. I set out our new royal purple table cloth, put out flowers, wine. It felt important to me, even thought it was just me and my husband, and at the time I had little idea why.

Looking back, I think I had an inkling that we were on the brink of something big and important. I didn’t have words for it at the time, but the word that jumps to mind now is — metamorphosis. I wanted to mark it in some way, devote a sense of importance to it, because I felt it deserved it.

It wasn’t easy, but we have come out the other end of this. And it may not be completely over, but I think we all know the worst of it is. Preparing for Pesach this year things feels bittersweet, like getting over that last residual lump in your throat after you have a endorphin-releasing cry. You can’t forget it, even though it’s behind you.

So maybe I should allow myself to drift with the swell of the waves, letting them lift and carry me as they come. Maybe it’s ok to not feel completely over this past year, even though I feel I should be. My body feels like it has the memory of the year imprinted on it, like carrying an extra load up a mountain. And maybe that’s ok, too.

So here we are again, facing the festival of Pesach. What will you be thinking about, talking about, on Seder night? We may not have been redeemed from a physical Egypt, but I think the taste of freedom will be extra sweet this year.

After all, a lot can happen in a year.