Written Saturday, July 1, 2006, 9:30 P.M.

After three tearful goodbyes with my Mom and Dad, I am sitting at Gate 19 (well not actually gate 19, but the nearest electrical outlet). My plane begins boarding at 10:30 P.M. and I am scared shitless. As I’ve told everyone else, scared shitless not because of the “situation” in the area, but scared shitless because I am officially an adult. Not that crap that when you turn 21 you can drink, vote, etc. But that I’ve made a decision such as this one.

After I first visited Israel in 2001, I told myself, “I will move there permanently.” Quite a strong statement for a 17 year old. Well, over the past 5 years, things have happened. People have come into my life, and left. Illnesses, births, friends have taken place. And that strong statement, especially over the past year or so has turned into Jell-O. I no longer desire to live in Israel permanently. I do desire to live in Israel, to study, make lasting friendships, and most of all to find myself among the beautiful sunsets and the even more beautiful sunrises.

But then I want to come back. I want to see my nephew grow up. I want to attend my friend’s weddings. I want to see my parents more than once a year. In the span of a lifetime, two years is a perfect amount of time.

As the old adage goes, “the juice is worth the squeeze.” And I’m ready for the squeeze.