Eight Nights, One Short

Journal

Bubbe has lit the Hanukkah candles for seventy-one years. This year she can't see the card with the blessing on it anymore. So I filmed every night.

Night 1. Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Macular degeneration. She calls it 'the fog' and refuses to be polite about it.

Zayde Abe's menorah, and the big-print blessing card he made her when her eyes started going. She can't read it anymore, not even with the magnifier. Eight nights, and for the second year, one person short.

Night 2. I read it for her. Badly. She corrected me three times before the first candle.

Night 4. Latkes. She can't see the pan, but she still knows exactly when to flip them by the sound.

Night 5. She asked me to do it without her. She said she was tired. She wasn't tired.

Night 6. I lit them alone. Later I walked past her door and heard her. Very quietly. Over and over.

Night 8. No card. No magnifier. She said every word. My mom had to leave the room.

She says she doesn't need to see the candles. She knows exactly where they are. Zayde made sure of that.