Because for us time stopped in March, right after Purim, and it hasn’t passed by so much as crept

Illustration: Dov-Ber Cohen

This is the summer we rarely leave our house. State numbers are on the rise, and our local day camp canceled just days before it was scheduled to start. After months of being home, the kids are still home and my husband is still working from home and I’m still supposed to be trying to work from home. Ha.

This is the summer when time stands still. It’s the summer someone tells me her son’s birthday was April third, and I respond, “Oh wow, happy birthday,” and her very polite nine-year-old looks at me strangely and carefully says, “Thank you,” and I say, rather kindly, “Because it was just your birthday,” and then I realize that it is in fact July, and his birthday was ages ago and he’s already thinking about turning ten.

Because for us time stopped in March, right after Purim, and it hasn’t passed by so much as crept as the kids Zoom-schooled at our dining room table and we made Pesach, and then Shavuos came and went and we had no family for Yom Tov and made no trips to New York to visit either.

And now it’s summer, and it’s the summer of no Camp Ashreinu but yes learning Navi online with Rabbi Ross. It’s the summer my kids teach themselves how to rollerblade and ride a two-wheeler and swim and hoverboard. It’s the summer I finally make the perfect babka and attempt kichel for the first time.