Return to You

The catch is that when we left our apartment, I didn’t realize it would be permanent. Everything pointed to our return to that paint-chipped door three weeks later: There were the round-trip plane tickets, most of our worldly possessions patiently waiting for us inside, and my husband’s yeshivah schedule for the new zeman, complete with an all-star lineup of chavrusas.

But when those three weeks were over, that door remained closed, those possessions gathered dust, and the chavrusas found new partners. The weeks became months, and before we knew it, 15 years had passed.

It wasn’t until the summer of 2022 when, a lump in my throat and eyes full of tears, I finally came knocking….

My last morning in Eretz Yisrael began like many others that preceded it: battling morning sickness. I was expecting our first child, and the pregnancy was challenging my ability to function. But my brain was still working well enough to register that we were flying to America later that evening for Pesach break, and so I pushed myself to do the final packing.