107. Notes

The church was crowded, hundreds of people even at this hour of the morning, and I didn't see any of my new friends from the retreat. I sat in M.'s usual spot and tried to follow along. For three hours I listened as the congregation sang melodies that were, with few exceptions, completely unfamiliar, and quite complicated--and not a sheet of music in sight. I was impressed and jealous; it had been years since I tried to make any kind of sound without first staring at a bunch of notes. Then again, maybe I'd know this stuff, too, if not for that two-decade gap in synagogue attendance. Who knows. If not for the gap, I might also be a housewife in Monsey with 15 kids. I was glad to have to learn the music.