It has been almost nine months since we came to Israel and it seems that we have completely adjusted. Sometimes it even feels that we never left, while we have been away for 17 long years. We have been perfectly comfortable in the serene Boston suburbs and now are surprised to discover that the boisterous Tel Aviv pace awakes and energizes us. We are exploring and learning: Kikar ha Tarbut (Culture square) is one of my new favorite places; Memorial and Holocaust Days - real days of mourning unlike the Memorial Day in the US. Our kids are gradually finding their circles and are getting used to the loud, rough but friendly school atmosphere.
Now it is time to reveal that I was the one who didn't want to come back. In the past few years, our life in the US settled into a comfortable and convenient routine: we loved our neighborhood, were surrounded by close friends and supporting neighbors, we figured out the schools and a bunch of extra-curricular activities combining Russian math, JCC swim team and a US lacrosse league, life-long mortgage and Caribbean vacations were all within our reach. We had a favorite newspaper, magazine, radio station, political party that we proudly chose, restaurants, and a hardware shop.
Why trade all this for a life with a constant threat of war?
For a politics we would never support?
We loved Israel and always enjoyed our yearly visits. I thought this was enough. Why endanger the kids in the army? Why take away their chances of going to Ivy League universities? Why downgrade our lifestyle? Why immerse ourselves into this land of pronounced contradictions (religious-secular, Sephardic-Ashkenazi, arabs-jews, right-left, rich-poor)?
But returning from every visit to Israel we felt brokenhearted leaving behind all those people who loved us, the sunshine, sea and the happy frenzy of Israeli lifestyle. We always had some doubts but were quickly dismissing them settling back into the sweet and calm routine. Perhaps one day when we will be very old; warm climate seems to be good for older people. Every year a family that we knew moved back to Israel. We said farewells, observed their absorption, but never thought it will be us. To be more precise, Moshe secretly hoped that one day it will be us but I was quite certain it won't. A job offer came but we rejected it: "Not now. Life is too good to change it."
And then we started going to Bar and Bat Mitzvah parties, where families were together and shared touching stories of their past. And we thought, who from our family is going to come to our son's US Bar Mitzvah? And then our relatives were sick and we felt guilty for not being closer to support the daily struggle. When Moshe's large and united family called on Jewish Holidays he always turned grim. But what really pushed him to tears were memories of Falafel David in Nes Ziona and the songs of Ehud Banai. And then another job offer came and we realized that it is now or never. And we decided to take a chance. Kids, born in the US, were not happy. We were taking them away from everything their world was: life-long friends, house, sports, language. We were trying to soften the shock by saying that we can always come back if things don't work out.
The first 6 months were not simple. The relocation in the midst of the August heat was sticky and bureaucratically painful. Kids adjustment in school was heart-breaking. They were coming home and seeking silence, crying for their US friends. They kept saying that they will run back to the US as soon as they reach an independent age. External and internal political news were very saddening. I had my own crisis one hot September morning (Friday) in the Rami Levi discount supermarket. More than once Moshe was very close to giving up while dealing with bureaucracy, broken air conditioners or broken promises. But the sunshine helped us smile and friends and family's support balanced the external troubles.
We slowly discovered our neighborhood - welcoming people, small food shop, great fruits and vegetable store, hair salon, private pharmacy, a wonderful park. Things that we started calling home now.
Now it is time to reveal that I was the one who didn't want to come back. In the past few years, our life in the US settled into a comfortable and convenient routine: we loved our neighborhood, were surrounded by close friends and supporting neighbors, we figured out the schools and a bunch of extra-curricular activities combining Russian math, JCC swim team and a US lacrosse league, life-long mortgage and Caribbean vacations were all within our reach. We had a favorite newspaper, magazine, radio station, political party that we proudly chose, restaurants, and a hardware shop.
Why trade all this for a life with a constant threat of war?
For a politics we would never support?
We loved Israel and always enjoyed our yearly visits. I thought this was enough. Why endanger the kids in the army? Why take away their chances of going to Ivy League universities? Why downgrade our lifestyle? Why immerse ourselves into this land of pronounced contradictions (religious-secular, Sephardic-Ashkenazi, arabs-jews, right-left, rich-poor)?
But returning from every visit to Israel we felt brokenhearted leaving behind all those people who loved us, the sunshine, sea and the happy frenzy of Israeli lifestyle. We always had some doubts but were quickly dismissing them settling back into the sweet and calm routine. Perhaps one day when we will be very old; warm climate seems to be good for older people. Every year a family that we knew moved back to Israel. We said farewells, observed their absorption, but never thought it will be us. To be more precise, Moshe secretly hoped that one day it will be us but I was quite certain it won't. A job offer came but we rejected it: "Not now. Life is too good to change it."
And then we started going to Bar and Bat Mitzvah parties, where families were together and shared touching stories of their past. And we thought, who from our family is going to come to our son's US Bar Mitzvah? And then our relatives were sick and we felt guilty for not being closer to support the daily struggle. When Moshe's large and united family called on Jewish Holidays he always turned grim. But what really pushed him to tears were memories of Falafel David in Nes Ziona and the songs of Ehud Banai. And then another job offer came and we realized that it is now or never. And we decided to take a chance. Kids, born in the US, were not happy. We were taking them away from everything their world was: life-long friends, house, sports, language. We were trying to soften the shock by saying that we can always come back if things don't work out.
The first 6 months were not simple. The relocation in the midst of the August heat was sticky and bureaucratically painful. Kids adjustment in school was heart-breaking. They were coming home and seeking silence, crying for their US friends. They kept saying that they will run back to the US as soon as they reach an independent age. External and internal political news were very saddening. I had my own crisis one hot September morning (Friday) in the Rami Levi discount supermarket. More than once Moshe was very close to giving up while dealing with bureaucracy, broken air conditioners or broken promises. But the sunshine helped us smile and friends and family's support balanced the external troubles.
We slowly discovered our neighborhood - welcoming people, small food shop, great fruits and vegetable store, hair salon, private pharmacy, a wonderful park. Things that we started calling home now.
