I live a dual life, I am stuck between countries. I am torn by love for home and love for home, or at least the home my head and heart tell me could be.
It has been seven years since I was last In Israel. Seven long years in which so many things in my life have changed I cannot imagine what it was like before.
Ten years ago I returned from Israel determined to make aliyah, or so I thought. The day I came back I sat on my couch and stared out the window of my apartment. I suffered through a lifetime in a day and wondered what I could do to fix things, to make it possible to make aliyah and to find out what life would be like.
It is clear that I never made the move. I investigated it, but perhaps not so thoroughly as I could have. I mulled, considered and davened about it. I wondered and looked for signs. I found many, but they were not clear. Nothing pointed in one direction or another.
As I look back I remember considering a couple of different options. I could go do some learning and see where that took me or I could try and find a regular job. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to go down the path of yeshiva life, couldn't quite decide if that was for me and was concerned that I would regret doing it, so I didn't.
I looked at Intel, Motorola, Office Depot and other American companies that do business in Israel and considered trying that avenue. But I was too young, too green, too inexperienced and I didn't find a way to make it happen.
Many things have happened that make it tougher to try and make the move. There are so many more people to be concerned about, it is a much harder decision and I wonder sometimes if I made a mistake by not pushing harder when it was just me.
But I try not to live in that space because what is done is done and there are so many blessings in my life. Still, in the quiet of the evening I sit and wonder what could have been and perhaps still could be.
Am I willing to make the effort. Am I willing to make the move, to make the necessary sacrifices and can I ask that of my family.
Am I willing to ask my children to one day become chayalim, to place themselves in danger when their abba has not. I am not a 20 something anymore, I am 36 going on 40. They are not going to stick me in some combat unit or any unit of any consequence. I am young, but still too old for that.
And so I come back to that place where I ask what am I willing to do. Is this a dream that will remain a fantasy forever. Or when the children go to college will I make the move then.