Asimon

"Return again, return to the land of your soul. Return to what you are, return to who you are, return to where you are born and reborn again...." - Reb Shlomo Carleach z'l

I decided to start this blog, in an effort to share thoughts, dreams, concerns, excitement and everything else in between. To be real, let out and hopefully sleep better when too much takes control of the mind. Here and there perhaps my spouse will chime in too, which will give an opportunity to hear a different voice.

Rewind to 2008. A request is made from one partner to another "wait for me." And so we do. From NYC, to Malden, Sharon, Massachusetts, two children (and one on the way), two advanced degrees, a car that is owned, one leased and a modest house that comfortably provided shelter throughout this time. I will miss the backyard, the wooden floors, the kitchen we redid ourselves. "We've always made anyplace we've lived home," my partner whispers in my ear, often many times over, as I've felt (perhaps unnecessarily but still) the black sheep living farthest from family and making our own. 

Fast forward to 2017.  The same couple finds themselves standing in Modi'in, Israel, for what will be a 30 hour stop to say a sudden goodbye to a parent, a father-in-law and grandfather. A promise is rekindled. And feelings in the airport that reminded me very much of my childhood, watching the lights of Israel dissipate and the sadness of saying goodbye. The embrace between four sisters, pointing to one another over who will move first and follow.

Life just has to be here.

"We will go coach, not cargo" one declares to another. Here and there, flashes of that process enter my mind and I wonder how life could be different.

And so began a search and pondering. Do we move to Efrat? Petach Tikvah? Maybe Be'er Sheva. What would we do and react in saying goodbye to friends, family? Are we lying to each other if we end up not going? Would we regret it if we never tried?

Until one morning, like an asimon (anyone remember those? Israel coins to make phone calls back in the day) falling to the ground, Beit Shemesh enters the playing field.

Close to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv? Check.
Schooling? Check.
Affordable housing? Check.
Anglo community to start? Check.
Kosher food? Check.
More or less secure? Check.
Train transportation? Check.
An American Rabbi? Check.
Closer to the traditional life we seek? Check.
Friends? Check.

And close to cemetery...sadly, check.

Things begin to swirl into action. The application for Nefesh B'Nefesh begins. My birth certificate, which was apostilled years ago and good enough to get a renewed Israeli passport (my mom is Israeli, and I American born), suddenly not good enough. Passport photos for the children, thanks to a kind lady at CVS $16 instead of what could have been $100. Insisting that the kids not get Israeli passports till their feet touch the ground. Little comments along the way how our news is bittersweet, others that assisting in aliyah is an honor. Family asking for what milestones we'd come back for. And looking around the house for things to get rid of, when noticing there really isn't that much. The breakfront and larger pieces, unused cookbooks all sold in anticipation.

So here we go into January 2019 to an estimated move in July or August. Two children excited to move to the "House of the Sun" and our daughter's little flower suitcase, filled with My Little Ponies, reminding me of the kind of belief we are to have that any day the Messiah can come. Funny how children are believers more so than we are as adults, swayed by a variety of influences and desires. And a third kicking inside, providing a nudge and company, with prayer that this process too, go smoothly.

In anticipation, willing more hope than sadness. Opportunity rather than failure. Optimism over negativity and taking things one step in front of the other...just as done during those hardest moments nearing the process associated with the end of ones' life.

May these footsteps be sweeter.