Saturday, July 19, 2014
Home Again, Home Again
From New York to Kansas to Boston to London, we have arrived home, to Jerusalem. I must admit that I did not want to take my daughter into a war zone, when life in America seems so familiar and so comfortable, superficially easy. Honestly, I know very few of my friends and family in the United States who wake up each morning and think, "Who is trying to kill me today?" (There is always a little room for paranoia, especially in New York City...)
On Friday morning, jet lag be damned, Raphaela and I went to Palmach street; we dropped off clothing at the dry cleaners, got supplies for Shabbat and restocked the fridge from the supermarket. Everything and everywhere, Raphaela proclaimed with joy, "That's my Gan!" "That's my bakery!" "This is the best day ever, I'm home!" And I was reminded why it was so important for us to come back to Israel, because in her heart, Raphaela is an Israeli and Jerusalem is the place where I found my life.
Yet, regardless of my jet lag, I stayed awake all night waiting for the sirens to go off, and wondering where Raphaela and I would be safe from attack, and praying for the safe return of our soldiers involved in the ground operation in Gaza.