Breathing the Cleveland Air… sort of.

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I have figured out what’s been hard about coming back. It’s not an ode to larger parking spots or easy shopping. It’s sadder. Last year when I wasn’t great about being in touch with my life back here, it felt okay. I knew I was coming back so it was fine to be email delinquent, phone delinquent, overall delinquent. And, for the most part, my gamble paid off. It really took all of five minutes to slip back into this wonderful life here. We’re still in varying stages of catch up with people we love, but we’re getting there. It’s a good process.

But here’s the thing: we don’t go back to Cleveland for another year. It’s just sort of over. And suddenly I realized if I don’t keep in touch, well that’s sort of it. I know it sounds obvious. Writing it right now makes me feel silly even. But it really hit me and knocked the wind out of me — that’s just it. Shoot man. So slowly, I’ve been writing to people (don’t worry I’m sure you’re next). Every few days, I sit down for ten or fifteen minutes and just connect to someone. Because the best part of last year was all the someones, and I’m not ready to let go of that yet.

So imagine my joy when Cleveland came for the weekend. We met Rachel and Zev for lunch on Friday. Tamar and Eve came for Shabbat, and it just made me smile. I loved connecting last year with this year in a very real way. And today we went to Tel Aviv to see our cousins (cousins is the easy way of writing David’s cousin’s 27 year old twin boys). I could have actually cried of joy (if I hadn’t brought all five kids with us who insisted on things like attention and food). Hanging out in their beautiful apartment overlooking the Mediterranean, I wondering if maybe I could just have the best of all worlds — people I love from everywhere just hanging out with me.

(Something interesting I’ve noticed lately is that other shlichim keep sidling up to us. There is sort of this newfound respect and camaraderie as though we were all on some bizarre reality TV show together. We sort of were.)

If you’re taking notes and looking for the message in my ramblings, it is this: I miss you. I would love to hear from you. (Pam and Art, thanks for lending us your boys this year. It is making all the difference.)

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