hod shebmalkhut
In order to be present for someone else, I’ve got to be present for myself. Exactly, God says. Is that what tsimtsum, what hester panim, is about? Nah, God says. For me, there is no myself and someone else. But isn’t that—? I say. Hush, God says.
I take the keys I will lose in two days and go to Walgreens, show myself I still exist in more than one place. There was evening, there was morning, the forty-seventh day. The plans and the prep were done, the dishwasher and all of its dishes.
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