“When the quarantine began, I heard of people in Italy playing music on their balconies. The trend caught on, with impromptu concerts and singing heard from balconies all over the world. I wanted to do something that would capture some of that spirit. Organizing something for our whole downtown Toronto street seemed daunting. I thought of Havdalah. None of us felt drawn to the numerous online Havdalah services, no matter how tuneful. But we have a few Jewish neighbours and I invited them to join us (with proper social distancing) as we did Havdalah on our porch.” Blessed be Our Porch My husband used to be the first to snag the newspaper to devour with his breakfast.
At dusk my middle daughter plays guitar while we sing with our neighbors. Each of us from our own porch.
From this threshold I cast my incantations to those who prepare to exit:
Now the papers huddle in piles by the door, thin and shunned.
Dear friends sit on plastic chairs on the ground below. A submerged yearning rises. Their words float up. We catch them and hold them close.
Wear a mask! Change your shoes!
On the porch my youngest child climbs the rails. She curls up on a cushion in the sun.
My oldest daughter sets off for her weekly trip to the supermarket With a detailed list and anxious eyes.
Blessed be this liminal refuge, outside, but safe.
I take a deep breath as I come back from a walk, before slowly, carefully opening the front door.
I hear my father’s footfalls as he drops off some wine. He does not enter. In the mailbox is handwritten letter from a friend. Bored children lie in wait for cardboard packages and pounce with glee. The doorbell rings. We wait. We retrieve our restaurant food from the porch. As we scurry back inside we glimpse the back of the driver walking away. Blessed be what arrives. Blessed be the deliverers.
For its first hundred years other families sat on this porch. We have known it for twelve years and have never seen a bird’s nest here. Now in the quiet, a robin builds. Blessed be his hope.
Fear others!
Blessed be our going and blessed be our returning In health And in peace. Now and always. Blessed be this shelter of peace. Blessed be our porch. — Aurora Mendelsohn