A few days ago I rented a car (Budget rental = balagan)
and made the nine-hour drive to my parents' house in Pennsylvania.
It was nothing but me, blue skies, and the open road...
...oh, and the radio playing Taylor Swift's new song "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together"
three times an hour- you do the math.
Being home with my parents is like coming up for air. I'm used to being away from home, but there's something imperceptibly harder about being on a different continent from them. I can't fully express the feeling of peace I get from being with them. Lunches with Mom, mornings with Dad, steaks on the grill...
life is good.
Dad asked me the other day what I missed most about America.
"Besides you? Target."
Besides fawning over my parents and shopping at my favorite discount stores,
I've been enjoying catching up with old friends.
Holly is one of my best friends from high school, and when I left for Israel she was VERY pregnant.
Now she's a mom, and my mind is officially blown.
Her son, Kieran, is incredible, and we (of course) loved each other immediately.
I know, he does't look thrilled about me, but just trust me on this one. We had some laughs.
Lately I catch myself referring to many places as 'home'...Erie, Boston, Tel Aviv. Is this self-delusion? A lie? Or is it, rather, an acknowledgement that a place becomes home because there are people in that place who you love and who love you right back. It's hard for me (someone who feels things very deeply) to say goodbyes. It always has been. But moving around the world has made me realize just how blessed I am to have so many different people counted among those I call family. And my family is always growing.
Okay, I'll leave you with a little gem from my parent's living room.
A reward for reading to the end of the post.
Don't adjust your screen.
This is real.