I lived in the Land of Honey for forty years.
Why was I there?
Because people treated each other like family, nobody heard me. They pushed their finger where it hurt and said: "It's good. You'll love it; hold back a little and see how good it is." I held on for forty years.
During that restraint, I learned to shout when it hurt, cry when it bothered me, interfere with what did not concern me, and rejoice when someone was kind.

When someone was kind to me, I fell in love. I thought he was special because he saw the good in me, the supporter, the compassionate, and the generous. That spark didn't last. After a while, he remembered that I was not what he needed, not someone he loved. I moved him to the pile of those who left me without saying goodbye.

I left Israel. I left the despair in my hope of finding a man to start a family. I left those who told me at length what was wrong with me. I went without saying goodbye.

What's wrong with me? I could write an encyclopedia about what's wrong with me? I'm still crying and screaming and sobbing and shedding tears over everything wrong in my world. I'm sick of it.

I'm tired of seeing what's wrong with me and the world. I'm tired of begging people to love me and give me a chance.

Give me a chance! Do you give peace a chance? No. Stability has no chance because it's not painful, unfamiliar, or honest.

Why waste time on reasons. It's all a matter of feeling. Today it's exciting like this; tomorrow, it's exciting like that. People think I attack them, attacking Israel, threatening what they love. So why do I think I'm talking and no one hears me?

I love the language, people, the sea, and the land. I love the Israelis and Palestinians. I love the vaccinated and the unvaccinated.

Still, out of love, I can't stay so close. That's why I left after staying in Israel for forty years.

I can't stay so close because it burns my soul, my sanity, my logic,  my perspective.

There's no perspective in Israel. Everything burns. All or nothing, war or peace, together or separately, love or war. Two or nothing.

I'm in favor of two.
So who are the two? You and me? God and I? Mom and I? My husband and I? My children and I? Me and me?

Me and me? What is it? Who is it? Who is alive, and what is the echo? My echo magnifies me and shows me what I can do. I could do that in Israel. See where the echo is? Where are the options? Where is the edge that I can stretch?
The edge that I can stretch for good.
That's where I'll go.

Author's bio

Aviva Derenowski lives within walking distance from Silver Lake Park and the Hudson River. She enjoys watching ducks floating and seagulls soaring. She self-published three books, including Talking to my mother - 99 anecdotes in 2018. In 2021 she edited the anthology Celebrating Our Mothers. God is her senior partner.