Home is where the?

One of my clients asked me yesterday “where do you call ‘home’?”

It’s not a simple question for anyone who lives someplace other than the place they were born and/or grew up. My husband, for example, was born in Detroit, but if you ask him where he’s from, he will say “Florida” or “Miami”, because that is where he grew up from the time he was a baby. Ask me where I’m from, and I will counter with “originally, or where did I come from this time?” But the answer to the question “where are you from?” is not the same as the answer to “where do you call ‘home’?”

We are in the midst of my favourite time of year in Israel. Spring. Spring doesn’t last long here; the pleasant, sunny, warm days with breezy nights, quickly become the never ending, humid, hot summer. But it’s not just the season of Spring that I love. It is everything that Spring in Israel brings on the calendar.

The blue and white starts to appear just before Pesach. The city streets get decorated with flags and streamers. There is something in the air. Slowly but surely, more flags show up on apartment buildings, office blocks and cars. The pre-Pesach sale of wine and matza becomes a sale of disposable grills, beer and blue and white marshmallows.

This year is particularly special, this the 70th celebration of our little country’s independence. All year in school, the kids have been doing special projects to commemorate 70 years of the State of Israel. My parents’ generation saw it happen, watched a 2000 year old dream become a reality.  My generation is the first to grow up with the State of Israel as an established fact, a vacation destination for many, the place so many of our friends came for a “gap” year after High School, and for the rest of us, the country we have chosen to call “Home”.

It’s been almost four years since we arrived as a family. I can say with absolute certainty now that this was the best decision we ever made. I can say with complete clarity that my children have been successfully absorbed. They switch easily and flawlessly from English to Hebrew. They  have that air of confidence that I thought was only possible in Sabra kids. They have trekked across parts of the country that I have yet to discover and slept under the stars. The older two have already compiled lists of their preferences for the army. The youngest walks all over the city alone, coming home only when it’s getting dark, something I cannot imagine allowing a 10 year old to do elsewhere.

Where do I call home? There’s a little bit of home in each of the places I have lived.

Dublin, where I was born and grew up until at 17 I came to Israel. I have no family left there now, and only a few friends. I haven’t visited for more than 5 years, and have no plans to return right now.

London, my second home for so long as a child, and the place I lived for 3 years after my first stint in Israel. With my parents and all my siblings and nephews and nieces there, the pull is strong, and I love to visit. The feel of “home” is strong there, but I think it’s more a feel of familiarity. I didn’t enjoy living there.

Boca Raton, my home for thirteen years. I recently returned for the first time since we came back to Israel. I love Florida, I can’t lie. It was great to be back. It was wonderful to see Keith’s grandparents and so many of our friends. I really really really enjoyed driving a minivan for a week, on wide, six lane city streets, and easily parking it in any parking space. I had fun at Target, at Ulta and Marshalls. But you know what? I spent most of the time at the wheel of that minivan thinking “was this really my life for so long?” and then laughing. It seems so foreign now, so different and so not really me.

Israel. Grand total of almost 11 years living here. Most definitely Home. No explanation – none necessary. But this is just it. It’s just where we’re supposed to be.

Where do I call home? Home is where the heart is. And my heart is right here.