The seudah was beautiful. But I feel empty inside

We’re always looking for outings and activities to do on Motzaei Shabbos,” a popular blogger once shared. “You know why? I think it’s because our neshamah yeseirah leaves us, and we’re sad, so subconsciously, we look for something to fill that lack, that yearning.”

When I read that, I was touched. And saddened.

When Motzaei Shabbos arrives in my house, I typically say Baruch Hamavdil, pull off the white tablecloths, change the kids into pjs, and start doing laundry. Later, I drink a strong coffee. I hardly feel a lack.

Or do I?

I wonder this as another Shabbos is heralded in.

I hastily hang up the Mr. Clean–scented mop. My house is sparkling clean, the hot plate packed, fridge loaded with fresh food.

I enter the dining room to tzind lecht, cover my eyes, and say the brachah. “Git Shabbos,” I whisper, and I feel only a hint of magic enter my home.

I kiss my son, tousle his peyos. We set the table. Soon, Tatty is home, and the seudah is beautiful. There’s singing and bantering, and pride-filled answers to the parshah sh’eilos. We enjoy fluffy white challahs, sweet fish, clear chicken soup, delicious minute steak and compote. We clean up, and I head to the couch to read the weekly magazines, feeling drained. And empty.

I don’t know why… the seudah was beautiful. But I feel empty.

In the morning, I wake up to a white wonderland.

I walk into the dining room to supervise my son. “Good Shabbos!” I chant. He’s playing quietly with the Magna-Tiles. Good.

Yawning, I head to the kitchen, pull up the patio door shades. There’s a thick white blanket draping my porch. I slide open the glass door a crack and inhale the crisp air.

I open the cupboard and reach for the milchig mug, ready to engage in my weekly ritual of sipping a hot coffee with a treat while binge reading until I’m called to break up a fight or something of that nature.

I pause at the coffee nook. Maybe I should give davening a shot? I want to connect to Him.

I push the idea away. It’s easier to read, but...