A Forever Flame

I know because we use our brand-new purple glue stick to put flowers on our handmade Har Sinai each morning.

The kids squabble over the privilege, but it’s an otherwise great way to start the day. Shiny glue, bright markers, eager fingers, and little minds calculating (Mommy, does a 1 and a 2 mean twelve?).

Today is also eight months, two weeks, and three days since we left Eretz Yisrael. I know because a piece of my heart remains there, or maybe all of it does. There’s a choking feeling that hits at the most unplanned times, a sudden wave of longing that rises as quickly as it falls. The intensity shocks me each time anew, because isn’t time the antidote to pain?

Yesterday, I watched the neighborhood boys drag wood across the yard. Odd planks, oversized crates, and an old chair were all fair game. I watched and watched, pushing back the dampness threatening my eyes, as my mind traveled to the boom bang BOOM! that I was so accustomed to hearing this time of year.