Confession

So often I want to ask my mother what would be "worse": if I married a convert or a Chabadnik.

This morning I woke up thinking I was in Israel. 15 seconds later I came to and felt the sting of disappointment having realized I was in fact in my own bed. I just want to go home.

Pensive

About every 10 months or so I make my usual pilgrimage to Israel. It's like my Mecca. Being in limbo over the past couple of years has allotted me the time to stay for a while, at least 4 weeks. This time is all too short. I gave myself 2 weeks. No sight-seeing planned, no day trips, no hiking, no shopping, no sun tanning, just homies and a visit to a grave.

What usually happens is that I feel the energy of the atoms of every being inhabiting this country fill my body where everything feels alive and I become Dean Moriarty with all the manic highs and lows. This time is different. I have become Kerouac's Mother Boddhisatva who feels the need to pray for all of Am Yisrael. I am the Divine wrapped in tank tops and flip flops. I have become an enigma even to myself. I like to think it makes life interesting.

This time, sometimes, when walking Tel Aviv streets I get a little depressed; my memories come back to haunt me. They take shape in the form of buildings never lived in, street corners having kissed on, bar stools, galleries, cafes, sea salt filling my nostrils reminding of once upon a time, reminding me of the last time, reminding me of love lost, heart break, body ache, romance, a fight for life.

There will never be another summer of 2004. There will never be another summer of 2006. Summers to follow. Israel, I always love you in summer. I love you today, even though the sun isn't peeking through overcast skies and everything looks the same shade of tan. Today I'm wearing a brown dress. I will blend in well. "In this country girls like me are a dime a dozen," too many times I've said that and meant it.

I am open to every possibility. I am open for love. My body wants to have babies while my brain doesn't. I'm ready for the process. I'm ready for love to come find me. Whether in NY or Tel Aviv, geography makes no difference as long as it has a place for me to rest my head and call home.

To all the single ladies (put your hands up), I bless you (us) with the ability to stop being such women all the time and to be open. I bless you to be open to love - but not too eager. Just open. He may be around the corner, or lying next to you on the beach. Or he may not. May this be the year that there are too many weddings that I will just have to stay once and for all, free of regret. Tagidu Amen!