Why is this night different from all other nights? :: Personal Narrative Writing

Why is this night different from all other nights? My sister Sarah is lighting the candles, and her work force tremble when she turns to c all over her face ina gesture of piety. I am thirteen years old, and we are gathered at my house for the Passover seder (order in Hebrew) and my hale family is here mother, sister, grandmother, aunt, and two cousins. Did I say my whole family is here? That is not entirely correct my father is absent. My parents split five years ago, and he doesnt honour holidays with us anymore. We dont really talk about this, though, and instead my mothers boyfriend, a Gentile from Colorado, takes my fathers place at the head of the table, and leads the seder, reading the phonetic Hebrew I in secret scribbled in the margins of that Haggadah (telling in Hebrew) several years ago, when Sarah could read Hebrew and I couldnt yet. I can now. While Sarahs hands are trembling over her closed eyes, Netties hands tremble as well, as she carries out the h eavy silver grey tray containing the seder plate, wine, matzot, and bowls of salt water. This tray belonged to my grandmother, and, as Im told each time we use it, its an antique, outlay a lot of money. Earlier this afternoon, I saw Nettie polishing it in the kitchen, along with the matching silver serving pieces, silver salt and pepper shakers, silver pitchers, and of course, the ornate silver wineglass we put out for Elijah. This is an impressive collection of silver, all monogrammed with my grandmothers initials, and when Nettie was polishing the pieces this afternoon, she spread them out neatly on our kitchen counters.They took up the whole room. Nettie is our maid. Shes been with us since I was three and Sarah seven. She comes to our house three days each week, all day, and sometimes she watches us when my mother goes out at night and on the weekends. She is a black woman, somewhere around sixty years old, and while she has been with us for years, I cannot seem to remembe r her aging visibly. Her skin isdark and smooth, and smells faintly of the rosewater and glycerin lotion she applies daily. Her hair, Im told, is very long, although Ive never seen it in any style other than wrapped in a tight bun on the top of her head.