And we're back!

Fitting that my revival of my aliyah blog should be on an aliyahniversary-- it's my fourth aliyahniversary. This time I'm spending it in Israel, unlike my second one.

In case my loyal readers haven't noticed (do I even HAVE loyal readers?), I've taken a break from my blog. I just forgot to let you all know.

Let's do a countdown of four exciting things that happened since I made aliyah four years ago:
1. Met a lot of awesome people on my flight and during ulpan and have managed to stay in touch with a bunch of them.
2. I got a sewing machine. This may not seem like an exciting thing to many of you, but it's really exciting for me.
3. I met my husband, got married, and had a baby. I'm lumping these together, because if not they would be three out of four. Actually, I'm going to change this: 3. I met my husband and got married. (Baby deserves an  a separate number).
4. I had a baby.



So...what's happened in the past 6 months? A lot.
Workwise: I finished my coverage positions and got a new job in a rehabilitative daycare/nursery school for babies and kids with visual impairments and mostly normal cognition.  I'm continuing with my other jobs in a school for kids with visual impairment plus (complex-- severe physical handicaps and/or mental retardation), and in the residential facility connected to the school.
Family: Had a baby.  Very close family friend got married (here! Yay!)
Living situation: Still where we have been since we got married.


Now that I'm back I'm planning on updating more often. Really. I also intend to do a post on pregnancy and giving birth in Israel. Someone remind me, please, because I don't remember anything anymore.

Weddings, Israeli style

I called my house in NY today and talked to my mom about flights to NY over Chanukah. She asked me if Eli was going to bring a suit to NY, and I told her that we had discussed it and...we're Israeli. Israelis don't do suits. But Eli actually is thinking about getting one in NY, because they're better quality there.

I should probably back up now and explain who Eli is. Eli is my-- ok, big word here-- chatan [fiancee]. It's hitting me slowly...I'm getting married.

We're so right. His sister is the one who set us up, and as she put it, "You get him and he gets you." Everyone else saw this but us. Isn't that fantastic?

I'm whelmed.

More on this later when I can process and as I go through this next stage in my aliyah and klitah: Getting Married and Building a Bayit Ne'eman B'Yisrael B'Yisrael [A True House of Israel in Israel].

Here goes.

Family, Relationships, and Being 6000 Miles Away When Your New Niece is Born

I have a new niece. Her name is Smushy (according to her Doda Lauren, that is; other family members call her by the name on her birth certificate). She is adorable and wonderful...and 6000 miles away. Which sucks.

When I moved here, I had one niece who was old enough to look at me on the computer, identify me by sight, and semi-carry a conversation. Our conversations have since progressed to playing hide-and-seek, making faces at each other, and her telling me about her day. Smushy can't do that yet; as an infant, she knows people by voice (sound), smell, and feel, mostly the middle and last ones now. I won't be seeing my niece until she's about 9 months old (assuming I go back to NY for the summer like I plan to). I held Squishy the day she was born; Smushy is going to be 9 months old before I hold her or see her in real life, and she might not even let me hold her because she won't know me. That really, really sucks; my own niece who I love so much not even knowing me.

I knew that at some point this would happen. I don't expect my family and friends to stop living their lives because I'm not there, but each time something big happens there, it hurts and it's hard. I'm happy here, I really am. It's just hard when life events happen without you there.

I don't even want to think about when more family and friends get engaged, married, and have kids and I won't be there.

This was depressing. Sorry. But this is one of the hardest-hitting and most bringing-you-down-to-reality, if you will, parts of making aliyah without all of your family and friends.

Where is Home?, Part II

I define home as “the place I lose my cell phone.” I think that’s because I lose my cell phone in places that I am comfortable in—I just put it down…and eventually find it again (which is why I almost always have my phone on the loudest ring, because that way I’ll hear it when I am trying to find it).

As an olah, I have had the opportunity to acquire a few new living spaces over the past year and a half. The first was where I went straight from the airport when I made aliyah. The next was my apartment (dorm) in ulpan, and the third is the apartment I currently live in. Home is where I can go and I don’t have to give any explanations of why I’m holed up in my room and just go out to get something from the kitchen or go to the bathroom. Home is where I can go over to my family members/roommates and say, “I need a hug.” Or “I just need to be alone.” Or don’t necessarily have to say anything, but they just understand.

Home is where I go when I need to be with family, either biological or adopted.

Home is also a country, a city.

I’m American, and more than that, I’m a New Yorker, a Bronxite. I am a Yankee fan by heritage/birth, and Brooklyn is the enemy. Staten Island is closer to New Jersey than to me, and it’s not New Jersey, it’s just “Jersey.” The city, meaning Manhattan, is always “downtown,” and when I go back to the Bronx I go “uptown.” And, no, I don’t know “Jenny from the block.” My neighborhood is not bad—while the entire Bronx may have the reputation of the South Bronx, it is not the entirety of the borough and I do not fear my life when I walk out of my house. The MTA manages to screw up half of the subway lines on a weekly basis, and does unbelievably stupid things with trains that run on the same lines, such as not running one of the trains "due to track work." Or running a shuttle 5 train from the first stop to a transfer stop, then a train from the transfer stop to another large stop where they're running the 5 train (please note, the train that is between the shuttle and the second large stop runs on the same tracks as the 5).

I’m Israeli, a Jerusalemite. I live in “the bitzah” with my roommates, and most of the people that I know in my area are Anglos. I speak fluent Hebrish and reply in whatever language I am addressed in. My TZ says I live over the green line, and I’m not scared to take 443 despite Egged not having normal bus service there. I know that the people around me want to kill me—what’s new? I am not scared to take the buses, nor to walk around my neighborhood at 2 am. At sunset I understand what “Jerusalem of gold” means and watch the orange-yellow light on the buildings as the sky gets dark. I hate the expensive prices on everything including food staples, the lack of really affordable housing, and the light rail that has managed to make congestion even worse. I love seeing signs in Hebrew (and the transliterated from English) and the sales (and jacking up of prices) of relevant products at holidays. And, of course, the holidays greetings on the packages and the buses—and they’re my holidays!

So where is home? Home is NYC. Home is Israel. Home is VV. Home is where you make it.

"What is hardest to accept about the passage of time is that the people who once mattered the most to us are wrapped up in parentheses." — John Irving

*this is a very personal post...heads up y'all*

A couple of years ago I built a nightstand, painted it a medium sky blue, and I wrote quotes, including the above one, all over it with some picture fitting the quote.

I just finished a book this morning, and in it the protagonist has a line about something being a couple of years and two lifetimes ago.

This is my second time coming back to NY after making aliyah, and coming back here now feels like my life here was another lifetime.

Strange as this sounds, it was never so clear to me as when I was with someone who I once loved-- and still do-- and realized that since I made aliyah I have changed so much and that even if I stayed here, I could never be with this person. That realization hurt so much. How can it be that someone I loved so much and who loves me back...that we've grown, or I've grown, so much away from who I was that it couldn't work? I loved him for three years (?-- give or take--) and then made aliyah and changed. And still loved-- love-- him. It hurts. A lot.

After high school I didn't go to seminary-- I went to college and grad school. My friend Shana, who did and then made aliyah, came back to NY and we were talking. We got onto how we'd changed and she said something that really made me think. She told me that I'd really just grown into more of the person I was in high school. I sort of got it-- college (really just post-high school and living out of my parents' house) gave me a chance to explore what I liked and things that interested me and figure out what I wanted, beyond the walls of school and my home. If I think about the person I was then, I can't say that I've really just grown into more of the person I was then.

I've changed so much over the past 18 months, and I don't know if I went back in time, if I would really believe that the person I am today evolved from the person I was then. I...I don't feel Israeli, but at the same time I know that Israel is so much a part of me and that I could never not live there. I'm so conflicted about how I want my life to be: I want to raise my children in Israel, but at the same time I'm horrified by the education there. I want my children to be Israeli and at the same time be American-- and proud of both of their nationalities and absorb and understand both cultures. I want my children to serve their countries, and I'm ok with it being either. I hope to G-d that there won't be a need for my children to defend Israel, but if there is, I want them to do so willingly and proudly. I want to be able to be able to express my feelings to my husband in Hebrew and in English and not have to translate from either language. I want my children to grow up singing the folk songs of America and the classic songs of Israel.
Is that too much to want?

Thanksgiving

This year it was a bit different.

It's now 12:44 am, technically Friday. This year my Thanksgiving was a day of work (regular) followed by coming back to my apt. and cooking. Normally Thanksgiving-- well, Thanksgiving used to involve getting up late (because I was off), followed by wandering around/cleanng in my PJs while Mom was cooking. The parade would be on the kitchen TV and maybe in the living room, but highly doubtful because no one was in there consistently enough to be paying attention. The house smells really good, because of all the cooking Mom is doing, and at about 4 pm people start coming over and eventually everyone is over and we start eating. Mom made rolls (probably white, garlic, and rye), and Grandma's soup. Oh, and maybe an appetizer and salad. That's followed by turkey (made in the roaster with garlic and paprika sprinkled on top and baby carrots, celery, and onion surrounding it), stuffing kugel, cranberry sauce (jelled and whole berry), and maybe cranberry kugel. A bunch of other side dishes, because...well, food = love. And then dessert, which is cookies and cake and tea.

This year I made my Grandma's vegetable soup. I had to split it into two pots, because it was too much for one; one came out good and the other needs to cook more, so it's in the fridge overnight and tomorrow I will attempt to cook it some more. But the one that was done came out well. I'm excited for the other one :) It was my first time making soup in a long time (I made soup once and burned it. In college. This was my first time making soup since then), and the first time I tried to make my Grandma's vegetable soup. It's...it's a tradition. It's a hard one to follow, because of the associations with Thanksgiving, and missing everyone, but it's still...it came out good.

The last Thanksgiving that my Grandma was alive for was a little different than the previous ones. Everyone but my mom was at my Grandma and Grandpa's apartment (my mom was in the hospital with the port infection-turned-sepsis). We had Thanksgiving dinner as usual-ish, including the soup, and that Shabbos my Grandma had a very severe stroke that caused her death a week later. I remember eating the last portion of soup from the batch she made. We froze it, and when I had it...I remember thinking, "This is the last soup Grandma made." It was always "Grandma's soup." Kind of like Grandma coffee (but that was a little coffee and a lot of milk; pretty much how I drink coffee today still), but not. My Grandpa wrote out the recipe for me after Grandma died, and my mom eventually typed it up and put it in the recipe book she made for me. It has vegetables and meat and soup mix...and the last ingredient is "1 brocha that it comes out good." I think that's what made it so good.

May we all recognize and be grateful for the brachot that we have in our lives, and always remember to add the "1 brocha that it comes out good." In everything that we do.

Missing

This past week-- well, more since the Chagim actually-- I've been missing my family; my parents, sisters, grandparents. And my friends from NY.

This past week was really tough. It was just everything was coming down at once and it was just one of those weeks where you want to crawl into your bed at home and have someone take care of you. Someone hold you, hug you, tell you it's going to be ok, and just take care of you and you not have to think about planning what to eat, or worry about paying bills or anything.

Fortunately I have an amazing adopted family here who are really like my parents and siblings here. Problem is, I don't live at home. It was kind of like that when I was in my dorm and things were not so happy...it's not far to go back home. I just had to take the train (3 trains) or a bus and the train/the train, the train, and a bus. Now I have to take 2 (or 3) buses instead. It's just the getting back that's annoying.

So last week was a tough week in the Life of Lauren. Hope this one is better.

Birthday thoughts

I haven't forgotten about Yom Hashoah, Yom Hazikaron, and Yom Haatzmaut. I will also have Yom Yehushalyim to add to that list very shortly. But put those on the side for now.

My last birthday in Israel was at a very different point in my life. I was still living at home with my parents and I was in Israel on vacation. Not, you know, for life. The night before I was staying at Hannah's apartment with Eden and we broke out the cookies at midnight-- Stella D'oro Swiss Fudge cookies. Yummy. I opened one card and left the rest for the morning. The next morning we went to out 88-hour/natan course and I had a surprise birthday party with the um...yeah, the most interesting birthday cake I had ever had.

This year is completely different. I'm in Israel, but I'm living here...as in, not on vacation. I'm living here. My family sent cards and I supposed I could put them (or at least the card from my parents) on the table for the morning, but that definitely loses something. Even though I knew that every year there was going to be a card waiting for me when I got downstairs, it was always nice and exciting.

I also don't really know what to do for my birthday party this year. I don't have an apartment that I can really have friends over in because I live in a merkaz klita [absorption center] that happens to be sof ha'olam s'molah [end of the world, take a left]. Bars are not my thing. I decided to either do light dinner (bagels, salads, etc.) in the park, or dinner at a restaurant. The thing with a restaurant is that you have to make reservations and really know how many people, etc. In the park (or in an apartment) you can get a couple of dozen bagels, spreads, drinks, and snacks and people can come in and out. I don't really care, it's about the people.

Missing home?

I miss my family and friends. Just one of those moments.

I would like my room and my bed that I've was sleeping in since we moved into the house. My pillows, my quilt, and my Booba. Or the bear one of my friends gave me that I slept with when I was in the dorm and my Booba was at home.
I want to sleep against the blue corduroy backrest pillow that Elissa swiped repeatedly.
I would like to go to sleep with my sister in the other bed in my room and talk as we both fall asleep and then remember to tell her that I love her and give her a kiss before we both pass out. Or go to sleep in her bed because mine is covered with stuff (read: clothes).
Not be able to fall asleep or want to read before I sleep so I pick up one of the books along the wall or next to my bed and know that I will always have something to read because the wall is lined with books.
To walk in to my room and see the collages on my walls, the pictures, the posters, the lyrics.
Looking into my mirror and seeing the photos stuck in the edges where the mirror and the wood framing meet and looking down at my dresser, full of photo frames and tchachkes that mean something.
My stereo. With a record player. It took me 3 years to find it.
Being able to call my parents and sisters and many friends without even thinking about it. And walking home phone calls with Sara...I miss those...

I'm home here, but I miss my home in NY.

I can't really figure out this "home" business...Israel is home in that it feels right here. I guess that's what home is, where it feels right. And it's ok for both Israel and NY to be home. But it feels weird to call NY home because it feels not right there, but it feels right to be in the house I grew up in, with everything familiar.

Pesach in the Holy Land

Subtitle: My first chag as an Israeli

Pesach is one of those holidays that is so darn family-centered. Growing up my parents, sisters, and I always went upstate with my father's parents, my aunt, uncle, and cousin (my dad's sister and her family), and my mom's parents (my mom is an only child). And there were 12 of us in the house, plus the dog-- Bubby and Zaidy (my dad's parents)'s room, my aunt and uncle's room, my family's room, and my Grandma and Grandpa (my mom's parents)'s room. The kids all slept in in their parent's rooms/in the couch when passed out from exhaustion at the seder.

We had our traditions-- the kids rotated setting the table/serving/cleaning up; 2 kids per seder and the rest of the meals were 1 child each. My mom brought the European kiddush cups for the seder, four of them in four different sizes. There were originally 3 in the set from my great-grandparents, and then a fourth one was added from a family friend. Only the largest two were big enough to actually have enough wine from, but we used them anyway. My Zaidy, my Grandpa, my dad, and my uncle each had a seder plate, and everyone had their own kiddush cup. My Zaidy's was red/maroon glass, my Grandpa's kiddush cup was green with a glass insert, my dad's was silver with his name, and my uncle's was silver also. My cousin had his own, too, also silver. My Bubby, Grandma, and aunt used glass ones, and my mom and sisters and I used the European cups and sometimes supplemented with other cups.

The way Pesach went in my house was a couple of weeks before Pesach, my parents would go upstate and bring stuff up, and then a few days before my Bubby and Zaidy would go up and supervise the cleaning lady. In our house in the city we would clean and get the house Pesachdik because my dad came back over chol hamoed to work. My Grandpa made the charoset in our house, with my little sister and I as taste testers; mostly wine, but he always made one container with grape juice.

We would all get upstate, and my Bubby and Zaidy would already be there, usually my aunt, uncle, and cousin as well, and my Bubby would be making chremzel (matzah meal pancakes) for us to eat. We would unload in between eating, saying hi, and petting the dog.

Once everything was in and we were ready to get ready for the seder, my Grandma would do the eggs, whoever was on duty for the seder would set the table with my Bubby, my Bubby would make the salad, my mom would be heating the food up, and my aunt would be doing the seder plates and whatnot. Everyone was doing something.

Then the guys came home from shul. Treasure would let us know. Eventually the guys would pick their matzahs, everyone would end up with a Haggadah (usually the same ones, although it always took 20 minutes to pick...), and we would start. Zaidy made kiddush, the Grandpa, then my dad, then my uncle, then BZ. For Karpas, my Bubby would make the salt water (with pepper too) and put it in two white bowls with the same cups every year. Once Yachatz happened, we (the kids) would tell our fathers/grandfathers that we would "keep" the afikomen safe and make sure it was in a safe place until the end of the seder. My BZ took his dad's, and us girls (my sisters and I) would split up between my dad, Zaidy, and Grandpa. Usually my dad gave it to my mom to hold and Lis got it; Andrea got Grandpa's because she sat next to him, and I got my Zaidy's. Once Andrea got married and went to Seder with Yoni's family, I took Grandpa's. And we would go through the seder, reading and talking. Ma Nishtana, Lis and BZ did. We used to do the multi-lingual thing, but then it got tiring. Of course there were the classic moments of, "And the rasha says, 'What kind of crap is this?'" and divrei Torah and comments interspersed in Maggid and in-between. Motzei everyone did on their own-- but until that happened... We got to shulchan orech-- no matter who was on duty, I served soup. My thing was soup. Is soup (as in, I know what everybody in my family wants and can tell you-- clear soup, veggies, no veggies, only certain veggies, noodles, kneidel, how much...it's kinda freaky/cool). Then came tzafun, aka negotiations. We used to negotiate individually, but eventually we all (all 4 of us cousins) negotiated together as a group, on one night for both sedarim. It was a game: we would hide the afikoman, we would say we won't give it back, my dad would threaten to eat another piece of matzah instead and not wait for the afikoman and we would talk to my Zaidy. Grandpa always agreed right away, or before my Grandma died he would "consult" with her. But it was just so much fun. As the seder went on, though, there would be different people "taking breaks" by falling asleep on the couch or going to their beds. At Hallel and Nirtzah, we would go around during Echad Mi Yodeah and Adir Hu, etc., taking turns reading. If I close my eyes-- actually, I don't have to, I can just picture it-- I can still hear almost hear my Grandma's voice, and I can still see and hear my Grandpa reading from the large print Haggadah in his English-Hungarian accent. I miss it. I miss them.

After Grandma died it wasn't the same-- close, but still felt her missing. And then Andrea got married and they were by us once, but after that went to the hotel. And last year Grandpa died so that was one less person at the table. And this year...well, this year, I wouldn't be there, my aunt and uncle came to Israel because BZ is here for the year, and so my Bubby and Zaidy and parent and Lis would have been the only ones. And that's depressing. So Bubby, Zaidy, my parents, and Lis went to the hotel and they're going to get to spend the Seder with Andrea and Yoni and Squishy-- one, at least. The other seder they're doing with Yoni's family.

I'm having a hard-ish time. Remember how my mom didn't want me to be lonely? I'm not lonely, but I do miss my family and friends back in NY. I think I feel it a little more acutely because of the break-up and not having that person like before, but it's also the first time I'm away from my family and missing the real traditions that we do every year and the...just the home and family. Sukkot isn't as much, because I went away for the last days anyway so it was kind of whatever. But Pesach-- we were all together. And there was always too much food and too many drinks and everyone getting on each other's nerves and being in and out and...this Pesach is going to be hard. Good, nice, different, but hard.

I also realized that I can't not live in Israel, but I definitely left someone I very well could have married. I'm having a bit of a down moment.

Backing up

So...aliyah.
Starting with JFK. We (the olim) got an email from NBN with all our flight info-- what time to be at the airport, baggage limits, pet info, what to bring...all of that. So I packed according to what they said, or as best as I could (translation: my luggage was overweight and I was praying they would ignore it.
Mom, Dad, Lis, and I packed up the car and went off to JFK. We got to the airport and there was a sign for NBN olim and a section set up for us:
There was so much luggage for the amount of people that there were. I have to get the pictures from my mom's camera, but...wow. There were dogs (a lot of them) and carts and...lots of luggage.
So we get there and we're putting my luggage in one area, and this girl comes up to me-- my roommate from Ulpan Etzion (who I haven't met until this point). She flew in that morning from Toronto...and her luggage did not arrive. And because of Canadian regulations, she had one bag with her, and all her documents were in her other bags, aka- not with her. She had to go sort out that mess. Thank goodness for cell phones-- she took mine, I had Mom's and Elissa's and Dad's. Then they called us to get our tickets and start checking in our luggage. On line, I met a bunch of people who were going to Ulpan Etzion AND in my section of the plane. Sweet! And Chari and Marcus came to see me off also! They came when I was on the line and brought me plane letters!

I got my luggage checked in (they didn't even LOOK at the scale) and went to wait for Eden. She eventually came back, checked her bag, and then we all went to the farewell ceremony (sounds so much better than, "goodbye ceremony." Dudy Stark spoke, Rabbi Fass spoke, some other people... (don't remember-- there was no mic and it was hard to hear) , and then they had cake and drinks and then we went to check in.Marcus had to go after this, but Mom, Dad, Lissa, and Chari came with me to the TSA security, as far as they could. It was definitely sad and happy.

More on the flight and the welcome to come...
At one point

Coming? Going? Leaving? Arriving? And where exactly is home?

I just watched the NBN "Come Back" video on YouTube ( click here for the video). I feel both excited and also sad/get teary...my aliyah has always been tempered with "but my family..." That was the reason, almost four years ago, when someone asked me if I was going to make aliyah I said no. I said I could see myself living in Israel for 2-3 years, but not permanently because my family and friends are here (US/NY).

I'm really torn about this because I don't want to leave them. It is so much easier to keep in touch than even 4 years ago, but still...there is a time difference and they're not right there. I usually call Andrea on my way home from work, as I'm walking home. Yeah...not going to work so much anymore because my walking home from work (if it's close enough, or even to/from the bus)-- she's going to be 7 hours behind me. So if it's 6 pm when I'm getting home, it's 11 am by her-- smack in the middle of her day. And Sara-- I'm on the phone with her all the time now...again, won't be able to. It's the spontaneity that I won't be able to have that I'll miss; I can't just decide, "Oh, by the way, can I come for Shabbos?"...because it will be a 12-hour plane ride, plus to and from the airport as opposed to an hour on the bus/train. That stuff is really going to suck. And answering the phone, "City morgue[, you kill 'em, we chill 'em]!" It's just...and Elissa I'm going to miss like crazy. I mean, we don't see each other for a week and we're nutty. What's going to happen after 6 months? Although, with her crazy architecture schedule, this just might work...hmmm...

I'm going to be a wreck at the airport. I wonder who's even coming to see me off? The calendar in the kitchen says, "L-JFK- 10 AM." It's so surreal. This is actually happening, I'm making aliyah.

But I get what Mom said about being lonely...because I will be lonely for my family and friends here. I will have-- I already have-- people there. Rita and Dov and their kids who are somewhere between parents and aunt-uncle and siblings and cousins. I have friends who I haven't seen in almost a year but am just as close with as when I left.
When I'm there I have a feeling of...rightness, like it just fits. And that's why I have to be there. I broke up with someone who, if not for the fact that I can't not be there and he can't be there, I could have married. Married for pete's sake!

I can't prepare myself for when the lonely moments are going to hit because I don't know when they will. Probably once I'm in ulpan and...settled more or less. I know I'm just going to want someone to hug me and tell me that yeah it sucks, but it gets better and tomorrow will be better and I can always call them (people in the States) or talk to them on the phone. And then just hug me and let me be miserable and lonely but just be there.



I know aliyah is the right thing for me. But why does it have to be so hard, even before I leave?

...

34 days including today.

It's Thanksgiving. What will my next Thanksgiving be like? Hell, what will my New Year's be like?

When we were little, my sisters and I used to go to sleep on New Year's eve and then my parents would wake us up to watch the ball drop. We would all be piled in their bed and we'd count down to watch the ball drop. We haven't done that in a while, but...this New Year's is going to be...well...different.

Past few years it's been a Tweenties-ish New Year's, and the past 2 years the tradition has been a gingerbread house/village-- with guard dragons. This year we might have a gingerbread village-- maybe not-- but um...I don't know when we'd do it.

Usually we would make it and then eat it New Year's. I don't know this year...Anyone volunteer their apt. for gingerbread house making?

It's almost 3 months until I leave. Three months and 3 days, if you look at the calendar, but that doesn't take into account flight times and such. But I'm calling just about 3 months.

I feel like I should be more...I don't know...feel more something. I'm excited, but it feels tempered, like I'm at the anti-climax almost. Like there should be more of an overt excitement. It's like...it's been a long time coming and it's been a long journey, even though the decision to make aliyah came about 15 months ago.

I don't know...I just...I feel like this should be some huge deal, and I should be really excited about it, even 3 months in advance. It's only 3 months, after all, and I am moving across an ocean.

Maybe as it gets closer I'm becoming more aware of the full impact this is having and is going to have on my family here. Andrea said to me today that she looks forward to talking to me an hour or two before Shabbos. I told her that we can still speak to each other erev Shabbos, and she said we can, but it won't be the same. It's true.

There's a lot that I'm going to miss-- my family and friends and all the "little things." It's calling an hour or two before Shabbos. It's talking every day. It's being able to just...take a bus or train to see my family and friends. Calling my Bubby and Zaidy and having to try all 3 numbers before I get them, followed by my Zaidy going, "I'm in the middle of __________. Can you call me back later?" I might not be able to do that any more. It's going to take a lot more coordination to be able to talk to them. Right now I use so many Verizon minutes; I won't be doing that when I'm in Israel. There's a time difference. My non-grandparents family will be easier to coordinate. But there will still be that time difference and it's going to be hard. And Fat Tush. I might have to fly out to Chicago for, literally, a day to say bye to her. I miss her. I need to get a dog when I'm there. My parents, Andrea (Yoni, Squishy), Elissa-- I don't even want to think about it. Lis and I get crazy when we haven't seen each other for a week, let alone 6+ months. And when I don't come back for a year or more? Um... My parents. I'm going to miss them. My mom is kind of funny about this. Not funny-haha, but funny-odd. She wants me to stop thinking/talking about raiding the kitchen-- but then she says, "Oh, here, do you want this?" She tells people on the phone, "I don't want her to go alone; it's going to be lonely, but what can I do? I can't tie her up and tell her to say here, she's a grown-up." My dad doesn't really talk about it but I know that he's okay with it. I really don't know what my mom is going to do-- she says they'll manage, and I know they will, but there are a lot of little things-- schlepping, taking care of random things around the house, helping her...it's also going to be hard for me because I know that I'm not there to do those things, and I was and I feel like I should.
Sara, Chari, VV people, Heights people, Einstein people. Some people in the neighborhood. It's just...I'm going to miss the get-togethers and the random hanging out and just being able to call them up pretty much any time. That is going to suck.

I know I'll make more friends, and be able to spend time with my friends in Israel, but it's not the same. It's not that I don't think I'll be happy there, but it's really starting to get me. Like a slow-motion, really heavy-looking...something. I'm not quite sure what I'm thinking or feeling.

When I Grow Up

or at least get married and have kids...not that that's in the immediate future. I'd like a guy first. Anyway.



There's a blog that I found called A Soldier's Mother written by a woman who made aliyah about 16 years ago. She knew then that her sons, at least, would serve in the army.

I'm not there yet, and please G-d, there will be peace before then and my children won't have to serve because there won't be a need for an IDF. But realistically, there probably won't be peace and there will be a need.

Is it fair for me to do that to them? Is it fair for me to move to Israel, knowing full well that I intend to raise my family there, and that my children will be going to serve in the IDF and protect and defend Israel and Jews all over with a chance that, G-d forbid, they will get injured or killed? Is it fair to impose that on them? It's my choice to move...now I'm in the US, a country that has a volunteer army (generalize it to mean any branch of the armed forces). If I stay here, my children will not be drafted; if they want to join the army , it will be their choice; it will not be forced on them, and no one will think them any worse of them or look down on them if they don't. But in Israel it's not really something that they will have a choice about. Yes, they will somehow be able to get an exemption if they really want to...but I'm not going to encourage it. Is that fair?


And on another somewhat related note, is it fair of me to leave my parents and family to move to Israel? Not like my mom doesn't worry here, but there she's more worried, more nervous. Is it fair to make my mom worry more? This is the part that really sucks...leaving family and worrying about them. Forget them worrying about me, I'm worried about them. What's Lis going to do? Yeah, she says she'll just have to learn to manage on her own, but it's going to be harder. It's little things I do for her, like making her food when she's running late or her laundry when I do mine even though it's more or letting her vent or running small errands...just little things.
And my mom. I'm really worried about her. Not that she's not worried about me, but as much as she's worried about me, I worry about her too. I help her a lot with things like schlepping and running up and down to get things or bring things and helping her with the computer, switching laundrys...just things that don't seem so big, but help her. My dad I'm not as worried about, but still. I help him with things like fixing things around the house. He'll manage-- they all will...but it doesn't make me feel any better.
I'm not the savior of the house-- by no means do I think I am. But I am home a lot, and am capable of doing things so I do.

Man, this sucks.