Twenty-four years ago, when I left my family home in Saratoga and flew half way across the world to enlist in the Israeli army, there was only one phone company in Israel, the omnipotent and omnipresent Bezeq. I’m not sure who were the phone providers in the U.S., but one thing I can tell you for sure: calling Israel was extremely expensive. As a result, my parents were only able to afford calling me once a week, and that call, too, was generally not a long conversation.
In order to stay in touch, people wrote letters then, remember that? Except, I don’t really remember letters from my parents either. Mostly, I remember waiting for Friday night so I can talk to them.
Fast forward twenty-four years and we are inundated with communication devices. There is the good old phone, the one that used to be attached to the wall and can now move around the house, or even outside the house, with us, as long as we remain in some mysterious connection with the unit that is, strangely, still connected to the wall. There is the cell phone, that piece of even more mysterious dimensions, that needs no wall unit and can work miraculously from almost anywhere, including, sometimes, the middle of the wilderness.
And we have computers, and Skype, and Facetime, WhatsApp, and social media, and who know’s what else. I surely have no idea of the scope of possibilities, being, in general, of the old-fashioned mindset that it’s nicest to see people face-to-face.
Seeing as how half of my family lives in Israel, however, face-to-face in warm bodies is not always possible. Face-to-face on Skype, though, well, that’s available at the press of the button, as long as some other family member is by the computer, which, in our day and age, most people are.
The world seems to have become a much smaller place, now that we can talk to the other side of it so easily. So I can’t figure out quite why I am so sad that my sister’s family is moving back to Israel. After all, I can see them and talk to them daily on Skype, if I want. I can Facetime with my nieces, or WhatsApp for free. I can follow them on Instagram (as long as they agree). I can be as involved in their lives as I want. All these devices and programs and magic technological advances make it possible for me to be as close to them as I wish, as long as I don’t expect hugs and kisses. Which, let’s face it, teenaged boys and girls often, anyways, don’t like to give.
I’m being facetious, and possibly a bit cynical, but the truth is, I was surprised by how sad I was that my sister and her family are leaving. There was so much drama in our family around it, that I tried to accept their departure as it was, to be supportive and sympathetic. In fact, I may have been so busy being supportive and sympathetic that it didn’t occur to me to examine my own feelings about it at all.
I could write to you a list of what I fear I’d be missing out on now that they have flown away and are on their way to new adventures in Israel. All my fears and worries, sadnesses and regrets. But instead, I thought I’d write what I enjoyed and am grateful to have experienced during their five years here:
Watching the kids grow. For example, my little nephew was 3, I think, when they moved here. Now he is 8. I watched him start to draw and become a quite amazing artist, and learn to read and become an excited reader. My nieces both grew so very tall! One of them loves to read they way I always did. My older niece arrived a girl, and is now turning, magically, into a lovely, musical and intelligent woman.
Celebrating birthday parties together.
Our trip to Yosemite together for Thanksgiving one year.
And if I’m already mentioning that: celebrating the holidays together.
Pool parties at Safta’s pool on a Sunday or Saturday afternoon.
Meeting the entire family by accident at the Farmers’ Market.
Going to Shoreline Lake together for a picnic lunch and boating on the lake.
Taking my nieces, separately, a couple times, for special afternoons just the two of us.
Picking them up, once in a while, from school.
Having coffee with my sister when she could take the time from work.
Watching all the kids (mine and hers) playing together.
Watching the five of them jump on the trampoline.
We had a good time together, living on the same side of the same continent, in the same state, and almost in the same town. I don’t want it to end, though I know that’s just how it is, sometimes. I know I can visit every year in Israel, but I fear it won’t be the same. The girls are getting so much bigger, and will likely have their own activities and friends. We have some time with the little one, but eventually he’s going to grow up as well.
I guess for this change in life, too, all I can do is repeat to myself: It is what it is, and it’s ok.
Since lately I’ve been finishing up my blog post with prayers, I’d like to send some blessings their way too:
I wish you happiness and love in your new-old home in Israel, success and joy in your new jobs and new classes at school. May you be safe and healthy. And may your travels carry you where you want to go, in safety and comfort and joy. A special blessing to all who are traveling today, to all who are making a change in your life. May you find that which you are searching for. May you find peace and love.
We love you. Have a fabulous trip! We will miss you back here, but we want you to be free to enjoy your new life. Have fun!
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