By the time I emailed Avner, I wasn’t even sure he would respond. We hadn’t spoken in over a year, since a disastrous weekend the summer before I started college that had finally ended our complicated, years long, on again/off again relationship. But Yom Kippur was looming, and he was at the top of my list. Tradition demanded I give it a try.
By then I was a sophomore. Leaning against my dorm-issue twin bed, I had gone through the people in my life, noting every person with whom I had unresolved tension, lingering resentment, or just unspoken gratitude. This was my annual Yom Kippur list.
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