A currently popular song expresses one of life’s continuously learned lessons: “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t now what you got till it’s gone.” For two and a half years I had no difficulty experiencing Shabbos in college. I walked the five minutes (maybe) from Bingham to Chabad, where I found davening, meals, and friends all waiting for me. Chabad was all I knew in my first five semesters, and figured that was the norm – Shabbos is easy. I chose to study in London for my junior spring semester, and that city constantly reminded me of these lyrics. Nothing was waiting for me and I was on my own. For the first time, Shabbos took effort. I wandered through the streets of North London, map in hand, to find a shul. While I was invited for lunch every Saturday afternoon by different members, I was on my own Friday night. I bought wine, challah, and some cold cuts, and with a newspaper, passed the time. It was then that I truly understood how special Chabad is. Even coming back to Binghamton’s West Side, we quickly learned that Shabbos actually required our preparation. When
you have it, it’s taken for granted, and when it’s absent, it’s certainly missed. I will miss the smell of chulent and the good feeling that happens when one walks into the “home away from home.”