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Home Where I Belong

Yael Ehrenpreis Meyer

“I just know you are going to love it here …” The sugary voice of the real estate agent broke through my daydream, in which our future house featured prominently. “This yishuv is known for its warm and friendly atmosphere, there are several shuls to choose from, you’ll never find a house at this price so close to Jerusalem, and the schools are some of the best in the country.”

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

short_story
I stood silently, gazing at the glinting sunset reflected in the surrounding mountains’ embrace (“the most beautiful sunset in Israel” the real estate agent had gushed). I visualized the second-Temple mikveh of the olei regel that stood just outside the town’s borders, imagined walking up the hill to a morning Tanach shiur at eight and then down for Pilates at nine. I admired the array of head coverings on the women — scarves, bandanas, hats, sheitels, and of the little boys — blue, white, black,
intricately embroidered Yemenite designs. It was a sea of color — past, present, and future — nestled within the stark green and brown peaks of the Judean Hills. I liked what I saw. “It’s perfect,” I said. “It’ll be home.”
 
We moved in just before Pesach. I fell in love instantly with my new house. And like any good relationship, it improved with the time and efforts I put in, hanging pictures
in the living room, planting impatiens and a tree (a real cherry tree in the Holy Land!) in the front garden. My husband was welcomed in shul and soon had his makom kavuah. The makolet lady quickly learned my name. And just as the real estate agent had promised, it was indeed the perfect place for raising children. There was just one problem: We didn’t have any.

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