When I started grad school several years ago, I had to move across the country from my parents, siblings, and lifelong friends. I suddenly found myself in a new city with no support system except for one unfamiliar cluster of cousins who lived a couple towns over. What started out as an occasional dinner so that I could eat a home-cooked meal and see a friendly face quickly turned into weekly babysitting and a carpool rotation. Soon enough, I had after school pick up responsibilities in exchange for unlimited use of their car, free laundry, and the right to raid their fridge down to its bones.
My little cousins were the lights of my life. The younger one, Isaac, had just turned ten, and the older one, Shoshana, was close to thirteen when I moved to town. For those of you who aren’t Jewish and didn’t grow up in NYC or Chicago, turning thirteen means that Shoshana was about to become Bat Mitzvah’ed. A Bat Mitzvah for girls and a Bar Mitzvah for boys is a religious rite of passage where the thirteen year old sings from the Jewish religious text in front of the whole congregation and their guests. There’s also usually the perk of a massive party afterwards with dancing and games with all the other kids in their grade. The ceremony traditionally signifies becoming an adult in the eyes of the community, but today in more secular synagogues it’s a general rite of passage and excuse to party as the kid goes through puberty.