So, I’ve come to a conclusion. I can’t be an Orthodox Jew. I don’t have it in me and I never did. But I can’t not be one either. There’s something fierce and old and tender about that life that keeps on calling me back, and I suppose it always will. I guess that doesn’t sound like much of a conclusion, but it’s the only one I’ve got. Dr. Feingold calls it “learning to forgive myself.” I call it learning that you don’t always have to answer every request. Sometimes it’s enough to note it and say: maybe I’ll get to this, and maybe I won’t.
