Early morning when we left the house, the streets and sidewalks were still feathered with whitewashed wonder. Our neighborhood had become cleaner, brighter and so close to perfect that it could have been another world. I was sorry I didn’t have time to explore this place that I used to know but didn’t recognize anymore.

Later, just before Shabbat came in, I walked through the rooms of our freshly scrubbed and organized home. The hallways were quiet as snowfall. I looked back to make sure I hadn’t disturbed their cleanness with my footprints. The kitchen counters sagged under the weight of accumulated foods. For just a few minutes, before the guests arrived, everything was as perfect and undisturbed as the streets had been that morning.

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