Can anyone tell me where I put the past eight months? They seem to have vanished without my being aware of it.
By this time next week, I'll have landed in Toronto and will be waiting to board my flight to Chicago, where my doting parental units will be awaiting me with happy faces, open arms, and (if they really love me) a cup of real coffee.
I'm not ready to leave Israel. I'm really, really happy here. I love being at Yad L'Kashish every morning. I love walking to work in the mornings. I love being able to say "I live in Yerushalayim". I love buying a kilo of strawberries for 4 shekels in the shuk. I love that almost every clothing store sells knee-length skirts and shirts with sleeves that still look cute and stylish.
Do I really have to leave? Why doesn't everyone else just make aliyah and move here, too?
So begins my final week. Tonight I go to Tel Aviv to celebrate Eli's birthday (yes, and mine, too) and to spend my final shabbat with Avi and his beautiful, talented girlfriend Lianna. I've finished up at Yad L'Kashish, but will stop by Monday morning with my camera to say my farewells and take a few pictures. The rest of my time will be spent packing, walking around Yerushalayim, and soaking up as much as I can before I go to the airport Wednesday evening.