The Good, the Bad & the Beagle by Catherine Lloyd Burns

likened the experience to Morning Meeting, only longer. An opportunity to think deeply in the company of others.
    Veronica put the pomegranate molasses in her cart, excited about all the delicious food they were going to eat. The carrot tzimmes, the lamb tagine, the desserts, everything was sweetened with honey and dried fruits so they’d have a sweet year. And as if that wasn’t sweet enough, they also dipped slices of tart, crisp apples in honey. Veronica’s mother always went to the farmers’ market and got spectacular apples and several kinds of honey. Veronica loved watching the honey drip down the side of the apple.
    One year Cricket and her family came for Rosh Hashanah dinner. Marvin proudly sat at the head of the table, explaining how sweet a year they’d all have and how happy he was to share the New Year’s meal with his family and friends. He even said a prayer, in Hebrew, over the challah. He was Mr. Super Jew that night.
    Everyone dipped apples into the golden honey and Cricket announced that she wanted to be Jewish. The adults at the table looked like they had swallowed something awful. It turned out that Cricket Cohen was Jewish. She just didn’t know it.

 
    Sins Upon the Water
    Three days later Veronica, her mother, and Cadbury took their lint and their sins to the Central Park reservoir. The sky was cloudless and the surface of the water looked like glass, as though a blue-green mirror had been placed in a beautiful diorama.
    Veronica rolled a ball of lint in her fingers. She felt guilty about throwing something into the water and disturbing its perfect surface. The air had the melancholy fragrance of decomposing leaves and the last remnants of summer grass.
    “Mommy?” Veronica said.
    “Yes, my sweet?”
    “Why do I love this so much?”
    “I think because it’s just so sensible. I’ll never understand whole cities, entire countries getting drunk on New Year’s Eve and making resolutions, promises they have no intention of keeping. It’s wonderful, setting aside this time to really reflect and consider how to be a better person.”
    The skin around her mother’s eyes crinkled in a way Veronica knew she was self-conscious about, but it made her look happy. A few ducks glided serenely across the reservoir. If Veronica tilted her head at the right angle she could see their webbed feet working furiously beneath the surface.
    Mrs. Morgan took a breath. “I will try: not to be late, not to hurry, and to be grateful,” she said. “Grateful for all the wonderful things I have.” She exhaled and let go of her piece of lint. It drifted slowly over the fence, toward the water, and gently touched the surface, barely making a mark. “Did you know,” Mrs. Morgan continued, “there are multitudes of studies showing that grateful people are happier? I remember my mother telling me it was Jewish law to be grateful one hundred times a day. And you could be grateful for seemingly mundane things like brushing your hair or drinking a wonderful cup of coffee. Grateful people will put your father and me out of business.”
    Veronica took a deep breath and bade her lint farewell. It floated in the air across the reflections of trees and apartment buildings and touched down next to a yellow oak leaf. Worrying, seeing the glass half-empty, taking things so personally—letting go of all the things she didn’t like about herself was reassuring.
    “I guess Daddy doesn’t have sins,” Veronica said.
    “Marvin Morgan is a gigantic sinner, but we all know perfectly well that if there isn’t food involved he isn’t repenting,” her mother said.
    Cadbury shook himself off and Veronica and her mother laughed. “You don’t have any sins, Cadbury,” Veronica said.
    “You’re perfect,” Mrs. Morgan agreed. Then she said goodbye to her daughter and her daughter’s dog and went home to finish preparing the evening feast.
    Cadbury and Veronica were going to take advantage of the mild weather. The whole park