Last Purim, I was home for most of the day with two of my sisters. My parents were away and we went to join them later in the day for the seudah. But for the better part of the day, it was just us. I’ve written before about the unique joy of a grown-up Purim. Last Purim was an extra-special grown-up Purim. My whole day felt elevated.
In the morning after megillah, I went to the grocery store to buy some things for shalach manos. I had baked for my friends but I wanted to make nicer shalach manos for some other people. It was maybe a little last minute to be buying shalach manos on Purim but I felt calm and relaxed about it.
After I bought everything, I put my shalach manos together in the car. Then I went to the home of an adam gadol who I was hoping would give me a bracha. Only thing is, he wasn’t home. I gave my shalach manos to his family, feeling rather foolish and transparent, and went back to my car where I burst into tears. I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted that bracha.
But as I sat there, it dawned on me that if Hashem had wanted me to get that bracha, I would have. And that He was telling me that if I wanted a yeshua…I had to be the one to daven. So I sat in the car (it had started to drizzle) and turned my tears of mortification into tefillah.
From there I went to one of my single classmates; we had never been that close but I felt a bond with her now, after all the years of being…well, single together. And from there I went to my public school to give shalach manos to two Jewish-but-not-yet-frum teachers. That was for sure the highlight of my Purim. It was unreal. And I hadn’t expected it to be. But when I knocked on the first teacher’s door — she was alone in her classroom — and she looked up and I opened the door and said her name and then I didn’t know what else to say and then I just said, “Happy Purim” and held out my shalach manos — in that moment we were two neshamos and there was no difference between us and then I understood what Purim is.
So after that, I went home, my nephews came by (yum, yum, yum), and then people started coming to collect money. Now, I don’t know how it happened but one minute I was writing a check to one organization and the next minute I looked up and there was a line of at least half a dozen men with tzedakah letters in my living room and I was just writing check after check and handing them out, feeling like the greatest gvir. And they were giving me brachos and it was awesome.
Between all this, I managed to give shalach manos to several more people, say Tehillim (but I decided not to pressure myself to finish the sefer and just say whatever I could, which was a good plan), eat shalach manos, and even spend a few minutes visiting people. When we were good and ready, my sisters and I put things in order and drove to our seudah.
Last Purim was so special, I was sure it was my last Purim single. It had to be the finale. How could it not be? My baby sister was engaged, I was happy, I was davening, I felt connected to Hashem’s love and abundance.
Last Purim was not my last Purim single. I thought it would be. But you know, maybe G-d’s idea of a grand finale is different than mine.
