Gemotions

The rabbi’s words, flowing with a cadence I’d known my whole life, suddenly felt alien. My sister, Sarah, her eyes glistening, announced her conversion to Christianity. The news had landed like a physical blow.

The synagogue's familiar smell of polished wood and old prayer books felt suffocating. I gripped the worn leather of the siddur in my lap, its weight an anchor in the swirling chaos of my emotions. I kept my head down, staring at the familiar Hebrew letters, unable to comprehend the change that had occurred.

After the service, I avoided her, retreating to the quiet solitude of the graveyard. I watched as the wind rustled through the autumn leaves, the sound a mournful sigh, a lament for the lost traditions.