This morning I am surrounded by overstuffed suitcases, carry-ons and “personal items” – with pillow pets peeking out of them.
Today is the day that, if Hashem decides they will go according to our plan, eight of us will board a plane for Israel. One-way tickets.
The ninth, the first child, my stepson, will say goodbye at the airport. Before I met my husband I never in a million years thought I could be a stepmother. Then I met my stepson.
In a million years I never thought I would leave Israel. Then my stepson moved to NJ. There was no other choice for us.
In a million years I never imagined it would hurt just this much to leave him here. He is a grown man, going off to college. But that doesn’t matter. Not to him, not to his father, not to his siblings, and not to me. We moved here just so that we would mean enough to him that it would be this painful and heartbreaking to be apart. This tremendous ache is our sign of success.
He knows, as his stomach churns and his heart aches, that this is what we need to do. For us. But it doesn’t make this part easy.
It has been a crazy and intense three weeks of limbo in Cape Cod, our “magical place”. Surrounded by my parents and brothers and a steady stream of visitors, we have tried to squeeze in a little bit of pre-trip errands as well as a few dabs of much-needed vacation.
I am sorry I haven’t been able to write about it. Perhaps when this adventure starts to calm I will find the time.
… But we all know this adventure won’t be slowing down anytime soon, right?