Why is this night different from all other nights? :: Personal Narrative Writing

Why is this night different from all other nights? My child Sarah is lighting the candles, and her hands tremble when she turns to cover her face ina gesture of piety. I am thirteen years old, and we are gathered at my kinsperson for the Passover seder (order in Hebrew) and my whole family is here mother, sister, grandmother, aunt, and two cousins. Did I opine my whole family is here? That is not entirely correct my father is absent. My parents damp five years ago, and he doesnt celebrate holi long time with us anymore. We dont really mouth about this, though, and instead my mothers boyfriend, a Gentile from Colorado, takes my fathers place at the passport of the table, and leads the seder, reading the phonetic Hebrew I secretly scribbled in the margins of that Haggadah ( singing in Hebrew) several years ago, when Sarah could read Hebrew and I couldnt yet. I can now. While Sarahs hands are trembling over her closed(a) eyes, Netties hands tremble as well, as she c arries out the heavy bullion tray containing the seder plate, wine, matzot, and bowls of salt water. This tray belonged to my grandmother, and, as Im told each time we use it, its an antique, price a lot of money. Earlier this afternoon, I saw Nettie polishing it in the kitchen, along with the matching silver serving pieces, silver salt and capsicum pepper plant shakers, silver pitchers, and of course, the ornate silver wineglass we put out for Elijah. This is an impressive accrual of silver, all monogrammed with my grandmothers initials, and when Nettie was polishing the pieces this afternoon, she spread them out neatly on our kitchen counters.They took up the whole room. Nettie is our maid. Shes been with us since I was three and Sarah seven. She comes to our house three days each week, all day, and sometimes she watches us when my mother goes out at night and on the weekends. She is a black woman, somewhere around threescore years old, and while she has been with us for y ears, I cannot seem to remember her ripening visibly. Her skin isdark and smooth, and smells faintly of the rosewater and glycerin lotion she applies daily. Her hair, Im told, is very long, although Ive never seen it in any style other than wrapped in a awry(p) bun on the top of her head.