What would tomorrow be like, far from my family, far from my shul, in the hospital on Hoshana Rabbah?

“Girls, if there’s one thing you do, go to shul on Hoshana Rabbah.”

Sitting in the hospital, staring into my newborn baby’s eyes on Erev Hoshana Rabbah, the words of my high school principal replayed in my mind.

Growing up in Brooklyn, I never thought much of Hoshana Rabbah. We said a few extra paragraphs in davening and banged the hoshanas on the dining room floor, making a big mess for my mother to clean up. But other than that, it was a regular day of Chol Hamoed; we’d either be bored, complaining that everyone else did fun things, or go somewhere with family or friends.

I remember almost nothing else from my principal, but that line made its mark. I went to shul that Hoshana Rabbah, and I’ve been there every year since. Watching the men encircling the bimah and beseeching Hashem for everything good as they held their arba minim was a powerful experience. Few women were in shul, and I loved getting caught up in the energy of this hidden holy day.

Now, my newborn began to fuss, and I held her close. What would tomorrow be like, far from my family, far from my shul, in the hospital on Hoshana Rabbah? I tried unsuccessfully to hold back the tears, unsure what it was that made me cry.