“It’s kind of a no-brainer for us.” “I mean, if you want a list of mohels, I can email you one.” “For me, it’s more of an aesthetic thing. I had this experience with a guy who wasn’t circumcised…have you ever played with a long water balloon?” This was the discussion I had with a few friends last week – all of us in our last trimester of pregnancy. And while the water balloon image stuck with me on the playground the next afternoon, I still didn’t get the answer I’d sought.

I’ve always wanted to belong. To the Girl Scouts. The band. The cool kids who wore CB ski jackets and made out by the gazebo. In college it was the improv troupe, the choir, sometimes Hillel House. More often, the cool kids who drank wine coolers and espresso and tried to reinvent Plato by the bike racks.

For all those trees, past present and future that I’ve neglected to hug. Thank you for this paper in my somewhat-recycled notebook. Thank you for the apple I just ate and the rain-soaked branches that stretch outside my window. Not to mention the whole taking carbon dioxide and water in and churning out more oxygen for me to breathe thing.