"BEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEEP!"

I sat up in bed and reached for my alarm clock. 5:30am and today was the day. Months of preparation, all leading up to this. I looked around my room at my shoes and jewelry that I had laid out the night before. This was really it. The day of my Bat Mitzvah. A week after my birthday, and it was finally happening. None of it seemed real. After locating a sweatshirt, I hopped out of bed and opened my door.

Running into my mom's room, I shouted, "WAKE UP, IT'S TODAY!", only to realize that the lights were on, and she was already awake.

She smiled at me as she pulled our dresses out of her closet and said, "Someone's a little bit excited!"

I grinned and proceeded to open the door to her bathroom and wash my face, brush my teeth, and straighten my hair. My mom eventually came in too and started to get herself ready. We made some small conversation, talking about things like what time we would get to the synagogue, and what time the service would end. Pretty soon the doorbell rang. My mom sent me to go see who it was, so I bounded up the stairs and opened the door. It was the hair dresser that had arrived to fix our hair and do our makeup. After greeting her, she followed me
downstairs to where we were getting ready. Yes, downstairs. Our house is kind of upside down, so the kitchen, living room, and entrance are upstairs, and our bedrooms are downstairs. When we got downstairs, the hairdresser set up and took out all of her hair tools. My mom told me I could go first, so I told the hairdresser that I wanted my hair curled a little bit, so I had soft waves. Next thing I knew, I was being sat down in a chair so she could work her magic! It came out perfectly. Next, while my mom was getting her hair done, I started on my makeup.
Foundation, concealer, powder, blush, blush, and more blush. Then I had my mom do my eyeliner, and voila! I was done. But of course I wasn't going to go to my bat mitzvah in pajamas! I had to put on my dress. My beautiful lace dress was strapless and came down to just above my knees. It had a nude colored satin belt, and a lace flower at the waist. My mom helped me into it, and before long, I was zipped and buttoned into the dress. It seemed to fit me perfectly, hugging me in some places and flowing out in others. I heard my mom gasp as I turned around. I looked in the mirror and smiled. This was actually happening. I couldn't believe it. I walked back into my room picking up the necklace, bracelet, and earrings that I had set out. Very carefully, I took the delicate gold clasp of the necklace and put it around my neck. Then, I took the fragile freshwater pearl earrings and put them on, being especially careful not to bend the wire posts. I picked up the bracelet and walked back into my mom's room, on a mission to find someone to put it on my wrist for me. When I walked in, my mom was in her blue-gray knee length dress. She looked breath-taking, even though she was looking in the mirror making that funny face all girls make when they put on mascara. The hairdresser helped me with the bracelet, and told me to get my shoes out. I went back into the closet and got out my bright blue, tall high heels that made my toes feel like they were going to fall off, and I slipped them carefully onto my huge, brick-like feet. By this time, the hairdresser was leaving and my mom was in full panic mode. She was running all around the house, putting together a bag full of things that we would need, tripping over the cat, and trying to finish putting on her makeup. The rest of the time it took to get ready is all a blur, and all I remember is eating a few pieces of fruit and feeling the chill of the morning air as we walked out to the car.

When we finally arrived at the synagogue, it was just past 8:00, almost three hours since I had first woken up. I got out of the car and saw my dad, both of my grandmothers, and my grandfather all standing there waiting for me. Smiling from ear to ear, I walked over to say my hellos and listen to everyone fuss over my mom and me. My dad insisted on a few pictures, even though the photographers were arriving in less than ten minutes. After saying cheese for a couple pictures, I walked up the steps of the synagogue and headed toward the entrance. My synagogue, Or Hadash, is an old converted mansion. It has a really cozy feel to it, and over the years it's become like a second home to me. I walked into the kitchen, heels clicking with every step, and filled a plastic cup with water. Reminding myself to breathe, I walked back out into the community room and from there into the sanctuary. When I got in the sanctuary, it was picture time. It felt like a photo shoot, people tilting me and playing with the lights, and telling me to smile. After an hour of assorted pictures, inside, outside, with other people, with just me, the Rabbi came in. It was almost time to start the service! I was so used to thinking of it as months, days, even hours away! Now, it was only thirty minutes until show time. The nerves were setting in. The Rabbi noticed how nervous I was, and he quickly pulled me aside.

"Don't be nervous. You can do this. You know all of the prayers, and you know what you're doing. Nobody's going to care if you mess up, because they're all here for you. They all love and care about you! I'm going to be up there with you, so if you get stuck I'll prompt you. It's all going to go great, so smile! Look happy!"

And at that, I did smile. I took a deep breath, thanked him, and walked back into the sanctuary.

Shortly after the Rabbi talked to me, people started arriving. First it was my family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, people who wouldn't stop saying "Look how much you've grown!", and even a few family friends! They all seemed to come in at one time, and they all seemed to want to hug me. Over and over. And over. By the time family stopped arriving, friends started to trickle in. First a few camp friends, then school friends, and pretty soon the synagogue was packed. After hugging everyone and letting out a few girly shrieks when I saw a camp friend, it was time to get started. The Rabbi motioned for me to come up to the bima (bee-mah) and suddenly a wave of nausea came over me. Did I have everything? Was I going to forget how to read Hebrew? Was I going to be able to read my essays without freezing up? What if I dropped the Torah? I took a deep breath. No. I had double checked that morning, I had all of my papers. I knew how to read Hebrew, I'd been studying it for years. If I froze up, I'd just smile and start again. I laughed to myself, I wouldn't drop the Torah, it's not heavy and I only had to hold it for a few minutes. I took another breath and walked up. I don't remember much from the first half of the service. All I remember is trying not to laugh while my friend made funny faces at me in the audience, and accidentally starting the wrong prayer at the wrong time. Other than that, the first half went great! Then came the Torah reading. Surprisingly, that was the easiest part. I lost my place once, but I still continued from memory. Haphtarah was a breeze too! The hardest part of the whole service was reading my two essays. Weird right? I mean they're the only part of the service in English! They should've been easy, but for someone who stutters they weren't. I've stuttered since I was very little, and reading out loud has always been a huge struggle for me. I can present things very well, as long as I don't have to read word for word. I started my first essay which explains what my Torah portion was about, and I couldn't get the words out. I managed to get across a few main points, but I ended up cutting it very short. Then I started my next essay. The second essay was about my Mitzvah project, and for my Mitzvah project I volunteered at a nursing home. I got into the second line, and completely abandoned what I had written. I spoke off of the top of my head, telling about my experiences and how much I had enjoyed my time at the nursing home. I made people laugh, and I ended up really pleased with what I had presented.

After presenting my essays, there were only about twenty-five more minutes left in the service. They consisted of me getting pelted by candy, my parents speaking, and the blessings over the bread and wine. Or grape juice. I chose grape juice. I don't care if I'm considered a 'woman' in the Jewish community, wine is absolutely disgusting. When people were done throwing candy at me, it was time for my parents to speak. My teary-eyed mom talked about how much I've grown, and nearly made me cry. Then my dad (after he finished "getting something out of his eye") read a poem he wrote. The poem was funny, sweet, and sad. Somehow, it seemed to sum up my whole life in barely fifty words. I was holding back tears, and all I could think about was no matter how much they annoyed me, I really loved my parents. I hugged each of them, and told them how much I loved them. Finally, I was in the last part of the service. I recited the blessings over the challah (hah-lah), and the grape juice, then the Rabbi said a few words. Suddenly, out of nowhere, it was over. Over. I was ecstatic! There was a happy buzz of conversation throughout the room, and people started to get up. I ran down the steps leading up to the bima and hugged my friends. Everyone was congratulating me, and I felt incredibly loved. I couldn't believe I had really done it. I felt amazing! There were some refreshments out in the community room and on the patio, and I joined everybody outside after thanking the Rabbi and giving each of my parents a hug. About twenty minutes later, everybody was starting to head to the party. The kids went on a bus, and the adults drove there. I must've danced for hours that day. I had so much fun! I ate, talked, danced, laughed, and had the time of my life. It was truly amazing.

I'll never forget that day. For the first time in a while, I realized how many people really cared about me. The years of preparation beforehand really helped shape who I am spiritually, and I've learned a lot about myself throughout the whole process. My religion has always been a part of my life separate from friends and others, but my Bat Mitzvah helped to merge the two together a little bit. Judaism has always been a huge part of who I am, so it was a great experience to be able to explore it. I really had an amazing day, and it means a lot to me that friends, family, and people from all over came to share it with me. All of the preparations and hard work were worth it, and I'm so glad I got to have a journey like this one. It was a day full of memories and fun!