A breeze comes by on Monday afternoon the kind of breeze that reminds me of the best moments in life.

I wonder why it brings such good feelings with it — maybe it’s because the house is clean. I worked hard all year to unclutter.

And today all the floors are washed and the beds made and the breeze comes in so clean like the ones at the beach. Carefree but deep.

A breeze is different when the house is clean.

It comes all the way in and it’s fresh.

And even a minute later I forget how it feels though it was only seconds ago.

So I wait for another.

And wait.

In the meantime I fill out a camp form.

Name of camper. Age.

I look at the what-to-bring list.

Four changes of clothing. A summer blanket sheets and towel toothbrush and siddur.

If I have only the essentials — on the list in my home — maybe more breeze will be able to come in.

Oh there it is again.

A small one a small breeze.

After that a “chat message” blows in.

It reads “Hard to see what I’m supposed to be doing when I’m struggling so much with clutter and money especially money.”

I love when messages come in just by chance matching exactly the moment’s thoughts.

I write in the emergency contact numbers.

Then a knock at the door

I go down to open it. The look of the visitor’s face blows the message in full-force — his world has hit new levels of low.

This particular guest comes to visit once or twice a year when he’s in town to have a quick meal and share some of his adventures with us.

Before he’s even served a drink he gets into it: “I don’t know where to put it the lack of appreciation the slap in the face I’ve gotten for all the work I’ve done over the years. Why is G-d doing this to me?” he asks for the first time ever in the 15 years we’ve known him.

He’s actually suffered much more over the years but this question never came out. It was very much the opposite; he always came in with chizuk and emunah personal strength and belief.

“It’s getting darker and darker out there” he says having a hard time finding the light making room for those breezes to come in.

For a breeze to come in we have to open a window.

There’s a woman who recently lost her father lo aleinu. She’s a teacher and one of her students said they can’t go to class because it’s too hard to see her teacher’s face so sad. I understood. I read an article about the teacher’s father in a Hebrew newspaper. They described him as an angel. A three-page article about his life of Torah study and love for G-d his family andIsrael.

The teacher became sadder and sadder as the days went on. Kind of temporarily closing the window to goodness in the world.

Then someone told her “Your father would never leave you alone in the dark like this. He’s right here but it’s your job to look for him — in a word a sound a breeze.”