Cohesion (or, Shabbat shalem)

When its day ends, Shabbat doesn’t just walk out. It dissipates, wafting through the world in shards and wisps, nestling into restful crannies.

So sing your welcome loudly if you want it to hear you. Your voice needs to reach all the way to Shabbat—pressed against the binding of your favorite book, to Shabbat—burrowing through the pillow down, and all the way to the bathroom—where Shabbat has spent the week riding the ripples astride your rubber duck.

Call out, and Shabbat will come running in spirals from the deepest core of the conch shell. You won’t hear its footsteps above the soft ocean murmur. It will arrive with the speed of light, returning from an aweing desert sunrise.

And when the final piece flits from the corner of your smile, all of Shabbat will stand whole before you, ready to say, shalom.

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