Nina dropped her fork back onto her plate. “Are we done yet?”
“It’s time to fill Elijah’s cup,” Mom said.
“I’ll do it,” Raina volunteered.
“She can’t!” said Nina. “She’ll spill.”
“You’re supposed to spill, dummy,” I said.
Mom pushed back her chair and set Elijah’s cup down in front of Raina. She opened the Manischewitz and let Raina wrap both hands around the square bottle. “Try and keep it from getting on the tablecloth, but it’s okay if it overflows into the saucer. It’s supposed to. It represents how our lives are overflowing with joy.”
I snorted. Raina poured the wine, the bottle trembling slightly in her hands.
“Okay, stop,” said Mom, helping her tilt the bottle upright again. The saucer was brimming, but although the wine shimmered ominously, its surface tension held it back from spilling over and bruising the tablecloth.
“Now what?” asked Nina.
“Now we open the door and sing to welcome Elijah the Prophet to our home,” Mom said. “But you’d better lock the cats in the mudroom first.”
We heard some yowling and crashing from the mudroom, but Nina returned with no obvious injuries, so we opened the front door. Mom’s eyes were closed. I let mine close too, and then Mom, Nina, and I started to sing:
Eliyahu Hanavi
Eliyahu Hatishbi
Eliyahu, Eliyahu
Eliyahu Hagiladi
I liked this melody a lot. Maybe the most of all the Passover songs. I especially liked it better than the one about the goat. Which is why, when Raina hissed “Mom!” and I could feel her elbow grazing me as she tugged on her dress, I stepped on her foot and sang louder.
“Mom!” Raina was...
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