Every year, this time of year the sadness and depression creep in, setting up home in my heart and mind. I don't know why it is, maybe it was the time of great separation in the family, or some kind of traumatic event that set the tone for these holy days.

I am isolating and looking and being near people is very hard for me. More than ever. It was hard before but this time of year much more. For many years I built sukkot, and for many I spent them in the desert dwelling alone in them. I put a lot of effort into making them sturdy and wind-worthy, and in the end, it was a small table, a chair and me and God. The wafting of the bedouins and burning garbage would eventually be too much for me to take and I would venture back into the dwelling.

I don't think I ever sat in a sukkah with my family of origin. I don't remember this ever happening with my mother. But there were lulavs and etrogs and simchat torah was celebrated, at least with the flag and apple stuck on it.

It's almost a year since my mother's passing. If and when I make it to the synagogue, I will bli neder say the prayers for her soul.

It's a sad time. Hot days, hot nights. And the time for forgiveness of what is has come.

Why rocks on water? Have no idea. Was thinking about rocks on overturned earth forming a mound around my mother. Her funeral was today. Rocks skim on water. Rocks can be placed in water with the illusion of them being ON the water. Or maybe it's a dance of light that rocks - in the amazing way that it does - on water. In any case, this blog is Chapter 2 after Writing from Israel Unlimited where I put my most traumatic experiences out there in blogland. This blog, I hope to give voice, shape and symmetry to the woman who was my mother - truly a rock in the storm, in the whirlpool that I hung to a few times to stop from drowning.