Returning To Israel

After 32 years, 6 months, 1 week and 6 days, I'll be returning to the place I love.

In exactly one month from today, Rick and I will land in Ben Gurion airport (so will Matthew, but separately from us). For me, it will have been 32 years, 6 months, 1 week and 6 days since I’ve been in my favorite place on earth. But, who’s counting? Recently, my bestie asked if I was going out of my mind with thoughts of returning. And that’s exactly the right way to describe what I’ve been feeling leading up to our departure. I am LITERALLY going out of my mind. With anticipation. With joy. With excitement. With yearning. And with just a little trepidation (I mean, there is a war).

During my very first visit when I was 13, after my Bat Mitzvah, Israel entered my soul and lodged itself permanently in my heart. I became a Zionist through and through. It’s at the very core of my identity. I couldn’t get enough of the euphoric feeling when I was there, in the singular place that’s been home to Jews for millennia. I returned for a summer on a teen tour when I was 16, again to study at Hebrew University when I was 19, again to work on a kibbutz when I was 21, and then again to live and possibly stay after college at 22. (And you all know that story by now.)

Israel is where my heart sings and my soul soars. But my heart and soul got busy raising kids and saving for college, so a visit to Israel was put off for way too long. 32 years, 6 months, 1 week and 6 days long. And a lot has changed in that time. For both of us.

Back then, Israel was very much a third-world country, primitive in some ways that took getting used to. I’m ready to be shocked by its modernity today (I’ve seen pictures on Instagram). Back then, the food was nothing to write home about and the very best thing was falafel from a street vendor. Today, Tel Aviv is a verified foodie city with world-class dining, but I’m guessing the best thing will still be falafel from a street vendor. Back then, more often than not, I flew seated in the back of the plane in the smoking section. Today, what’s a smoking section? Back then, I’d throw down a sleeping bag and spend the night wherever we happened to be, under the stars along the shores of the Kinneret, in the Negev or on one of the many beaches; indoor bathroom facilities were optional. Today, c’mon let’s be serious. Back then, I made sure to always have my Walkman and extra AA batteries on hand for ready entertainment. Today, I’ll have my phone and neck fan in hand, with all the various charging cords. Back then, we used to race up the steep snake path at Masada. Today, we’ll ascend comfortably in the tram. Back then, I’d bake on the beach slathered in baby oil. Today, I’ll be sitting in the shade in my skirted bathing suit (neck fan in place). Back then, I had to make sure to pack tampons, and my daily pill was birth control. Today, readers are required packing, and my daily pill is Lipitor. Back then, I’d look at the hot soldiers with lust in my heart and think I’d like to “date” them. Today, I’ll look at the adorable soldiers and think those young boys are the same age as Matthew. Like I said, so much has changed.

Yet at the same time, some things will never change. I know that as the iconic Tel Aviv coastline becomes visible from the airplane window, my breath will catch at the glorious sight. I know that as we drive into the Judean Hills and Jerusalem rises in the distance, my heart will skip a beat and my eyes will fill with tears. I know that when I am in Tel Aviv, I will come alive with the joie de vivre vibe of that city. The exuberance, the thirst for celebrating life, is contagious. I mean, where else in the world do crowds spontaneously combust into joyous dancing in the streets, even during war? I’d wager, nowhere else. (According to the 2025 World Happiness Report, Israel is the 8th happiest country in the world, down from 5th last year. Just for reference, the United States is 24th.)

Israel is glorious; Israel is wondrous; Israel is like no other place on earth. I’m not oblivious; I know this tiny country is riddled with conflict and complexities. But there is nothing complicated about the joy I feel when I’m there. It’s unadulterated; complete and absolute. And I’m literally going out of my mind with thoughts of being there.