Midnight Magic Yael Zoldan It happened at midnight that they finally left. They fully intended to leave at ten, and came armed with a list of reasons why they couldn’t stay a moment longer — Mathew has soccer tomorrow, Jessie has ballet, we’re having brunch with friends…. But it was midnight before they managed to push themselves away from the table — eyes dazed, faces shining — and gather their happy children to go. It was midnight before they turned to us at the door, sheepishly fingering their car keys and said, “That was amazing. We don’t even know what to say. We never knew Seder night could be like this.” He clenched my husband’s hands between two of his and said, “Thank you, really thank you for sharing this with us.” She leaned down to kiss my cheek and murmured, “I don’t know how you did that.” And the children? Their eyes were full of stars, glazed over by a night filled with heroes and villains, frogs and snakes and brave men of faith. Even their teenager Alex, who had come in bored and surly, was now laughing and talking animatedly with my son. Their eight-year-old daughterJessie whispered secrets in my daughter’s ears. And the little boyMathew, whose Jewish name was Moshe, was so puffed up with pride at his namesake, I wondered how he’d fit into his jacket.