Each year when store aisles turn red and green,

I, the ever-festive Jew, keep my eyes peeled

for a strip of blue and yellow, a waterfall on the side of Mars.

I peruse the usual meager supply of Chanukah chazerai.

Gift bags, candles, menorahs, dreidels, gelt, the works.

 

But it never takes up more than one shelf.

While disappointing, there’s a sense of rarity to it.

What special hidden gem might I find?

What new innovations have been packaged for my approval?

 

It feels nice to be acknowledged,

even if it is minimal.

It feels nice be catered to,

even if it is just to get the money in my pocket.

 

It feels nice

 

to warm your hands on the nostalgia of your own traditions,

When the culture has frozen you out.