I don’t know if it’s because today is one of those days where I have been having trouble coordinating myself for the day ahead (my jeans need washing, I’m wearing open-back suede shoes in slushy snow, I’m behind in work, my pen leaked all over my right hand and I see a potential clash with my white shirt). But I’m missing home so bad right now. I guess this is ‘homesick’: Sick of one home, missing the other. But when I ‘miss’ New York in Jerusalem, I miss shopping and good bars.

When I miss Israel when I’m in the States, I miss cheeky comments by morning bus drivers. I miss tripping over poorly-laid sidewalk stones. I miss palm trees lining my way to work. I miss not looking twice when I see a kippah. I miss getting to work by crazy bus speeding down century-old roads. I miss getting to work at 10 am and still feeling great. I miss being able to think in my mother tongue and speak in my ancestors’ tongue…

So when I said a few days ago that the scales were tipped, I was right. My home isn’t here anymore because everything I want to be doing and being right now is over there.






Whadya got: