High Holy Day Memories

Sitting in Erev Rosh Hashanah services tonight, I started thinking about what I missed about being home this time of year and realized I have quite a few memories related to the High Holy Days. Some are funny… well, actually, most are funny! Without further adieu, I present to you my High Holy Day memories:

• my little brother Greg rushing out of the sanctuary headed for the oneg, weaving his four-foot self in and out of the adults slowly working their way out of the room as my mom tries desperately to get him to stand in line and wait like everyone else
• my dad playing football with all the kids at second day services in the mountains while the service is still in progress and getting reprimanded on the microphone by the rabbi for being too loud
• my mom being invited to read the same passage every year for Yom Kippur morning services; her sitting on the bimah while we waved at her from the congregation; her not waving back but smiling at us; my dad explaining that she cannot wave at us during the service while she is on the bimah
• Greg and I blowing our shofars all over the house for weeks before the High Holy Days
• leaning my head on my mom's shoulder during the never-ending sermon
• whispering with my dad during services and getting a glare from my mom
• my dad offering me food seemingly every five minutes on Yom Kippur when it was already difficult for me to fast as a teenager 
• building forts in the woods with the other kids during second day services in the mountains
• taking breaks from services to hang out and chat in the lounge
• being bewildered by the number of extra chairs set up that extend all the way to the back of the social hall
• being rushed to school after morning services; changing from temple clothes to school clothes in the car
• smiling at my mom every time a certain line was read that she doesn't like