Phone calls yielding false information, corrections, sarcasm from rude receptionists, repetition (what's your date of birth? what's your insurance?).
Throughout the afternoon, I enjoy samples of the food she's prepared.
A silvery waterfall in a marble lobby. The tap-tap of heels, the squeak of leather shoes.
I enjoy singing with them. I enjoy his jokes. We walk back on a cool, windy night.
Some of the characters: A chatty widow with a chin that looks like a weedy garden; another woman, quiet and carefully put together, wearing creamy makeup and eating her cake with quick, tidy bites; a young man propelled by wine and joy to dance at the end of the meal with two other men, their shirts crawling out of their pants, their faces flushed.
Going to a different type of synagogue. I notice what's been truncated in the service and omitted deliberately or carelessly. I also notice the atmosphere of geniality, welcome, and compassion.
She prays for people who are feeling stuck. I close my eyes, hearing this prayer.