It’s walking through the sea while G-d turns the world upside down, it’s shaking in awe of His power to upend the natural order and create a nation

Through the glass window of the dress shop, I spot a huge bottle of hand sanitizer sitting on a barstool like a stately sentinel.

“Sign your name on the paper.” The saleslady wears a mask and gloves. “The wait is 20 minutes and then you get 20 minutes in the store.” I nod, measure the distance between me and the customer in front of me. Last week I hated the crowds, now I hate the separation, the wariness and unease that settles like a fine layer of mold in the spaces between us.

It’s one of those days at the beginning, but not the very beginning. School’s been canceled but we’re not on lockdown yet. We know things are going to get worse but our brains are still toying with what sort of legwear will go best with the toddlers’ Pesach dresses. The sequined socks are driftwood — and I’m holding on for dear life.

The owner comes by and glances at the older woman next to me speaking on the phone in rapid-fire Hebrew. “Don’t let her in,” she whispers to the masked sentry. “Find out what she needs and bring it out to her, it’s not safe for her to come inside.”

I want to cry because sometimes love looks cruel.

A police officer comes by, inspecting, making sure there’s no more than ten people inside. The two seminary girls waiting in line with me whip out their cameras, snap, giggle. “We’re hoping to come back after Pesach,” they tell me. I nod and smile. I want to cry for them too.

I’m here for a dress that covers the knees of my daughter who grew approximately 4,000 inches in the past six months. At least, that’s what I tell myself. But I’m not gonna lie, there’s some dark, deep-rooted habit here. This time of year I usually dive right in to the floral print, eyelet, lacy teals, ribbed sets, light grays, nude stockings, spring. I obsess over every detail and I say it’s for Pesach because kavod Yom Tov and all that, but also, I love it. There. I said it.

And then you walk up, while I’m still blinking back tears because the owner won’t let the old lady in and the seminary girls are still in denial, and I want to buy every single thing in the store just to decompress, but I’m here for a dress that covers the knees of my growing daughter. I can justify standing here for tzniyus, but not indulgence.