Second times are like
slumber parties.
You pick the guests (but your mothers can come).
You stay as long as you want.
You worry about not enough dip and how many glasses,
but not about rehearsals and your father’s sister’s second husband and your cousin Rose.
You may forget the horseradish or the Tamari salt, all the forks or the toasting
goblets.
But you won’t forget why
you gathered
or where you’d been (before).