As I stood there engrossed in the age-old words, my heart took over. I’m so lonely, Hashem. The words seemed to form themselves,
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The breeze was cool, the scenery stunning. My gaze swept the expanse of trees and rocks, a pattern of graceful contrast leading to the valley below. The orange orb of sun pulsated with power as it began its descent.
I stood on the mirpeset drinking in this harmony, hearing the birds warble their final song, the sky streaked pearly pink.
My sister’s apartment in Yerushalyaim was small but serviceable. The contractor had used typical Israeli frugality, putting in all the necessities but at their bare minimum. Postage-stamp-sized, this porch probably just met the requirements that legally allowed it to be called a mirpeset. No room for patio furniture or even plants, but the perch on the porch offered magnificent vistas, from the magic of a misty dawn through the deepening of dreamy dusk.
I opened my siddur. Paged until Minchah. I had plenty of time, and turned slowly to face the mirpeset wall in the direction of the Kosel.
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