I hadn’t hit shul for Simchas Torah in who knows how long. I figured let’s go in and see where they’re up to

I didn’t really do hakafos.

As an older teen, Simchas Torah was about socializing. New clothing, chitchatting with friends, forming tight little circles of chairs in the corners of the women’s section, while in the front, dozens of children vied for space against the mechitzah.

There was a smattering of older women there, too, but mostly it was mothers with kids and more kids. We’d find a space and take a cursory look at the dancing down below, but mostly, throughout the distribution of candy and cheap toys, the rainfall of gumballs and lollipops onto the boys below, the swelling of song from the men, we teens jabbered on.

The years passed, and I still didn’t do hakafos. When I got married, the first couple years we spent Succos abroad, and when we were in town for Yom Tov, I didn’t go to shul on Simchas Torah. It took some time for the kids to come and weren’t hakafos about bringing your kids?

I visited friends on Simchas Torah nights. We’d take long, leisurely walks across town. The weather was just right, a nice nip in the air, and we’d meander the streets, catching up. Around us, people hurried to their respective shuls. They’d open the door and notes of song would flow out. But we weren’t going anywhere, traipsing and wandering, this bench and the other.

Until one time we were. We’d just walked by the street of my family’s shul and I thought a bit guiltily that I hadn’t hit shul for Simchas Torah in who knows how long. I figured let’s go in and see where they’re up to.