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Making Pesach for the first time is a rite of passage, I tell myself

The choice we didn’t make niggles at me. What if we could make it again?

It was such a happy simchah, it was worth the pain.  Why did she pick me, though? I wondered

Please don’t wrap me in foam and netting like an esrog. I’m not that fragile

It’s the private, only-for-Mom’s-eyes tantrums that bring me to my knees. “Our family is dysfunctional!”

I see her for years — maybe six or seven. She goes from around 12 to adulthood