Ten years ago, I became a bar mitzvah. I remember memorizing my Torah portion just a few weeks after I began studying. It was a challenge I delighted in completing well ahead of schedule. On that day, I remember adorning a special-ordered sky blue yarmulke. I remember looking out beyond our Temple Chaverim dais to rows of relatives, neighbors, and friends present for my special day. And I remember leading our service in transliterated Hebrew before a full synagogue, internalizing and reflecting upon those words I spoke. I can no longer recall what they meant. But I do remember what I saw when I delivered them. I remember my parents’ grinning teeth and my grandmothers’ great pride.

Judaism isn’t a prominent part of my life right now, but I’m comforted in knowing it remains within reach, ready for me to reach out and harness it once again.