The last time I was in E”Y was before COVID, in August 2019 (and what a wonderful week it was). I wanted to go this summer but it didn’t work out. Maybe later this year…
My cousin was just there and her WhatsApp status made me homesick. I miss E”Y — when I’m there I remember who I am. I miss the peace and tranquility and the pleasure of doing everything slowly. I miss being surrounded by holiness, the uplifting ordinary. I miss the davening. I miss the huge sky. I miss the white stone. I miss the Egged buses. I miss the emunah I bring back here. I miss the mountains. I miss it all.
Writing this is making me cry. I am crying to be in E”Y, and to be of E”Y.
How many layers of longing, from so many people, for so many years. Millions of people, thousands of years, hundreds of reasons. Missing Eretz Yisroel.
