A letter arrived. So did my 19-year-old self

When I was 19, my boyfriend told me he’d live in Israel one day. I was in love, but I wished him well.
— Just not with me, I said.
Back then, I had no plans to leave São Paulo — let alone any desire to live in Israel.
— Why not?, he asked.
— One reason? I don’t want my kids joining the army.

Twenty-five years went by. I married that boyfriend. He convinced me to move to Israel, and the day I landed at the airport with 12 suitcases in tow, I fell in love.
—  Please get used to it, because I’m not going back, I said a week later, after spotting an Israeli flag in the neighbor’s window.

We moved to the desert. We lived through two wars. I left some baggage behind, chose other pieces to carry. I changed completely — I barely recognize the person I used to be. I chose, consciously, who I wanted to become. And every day, I wake up certain I’m exactly where I should be.

Then today, I found a letter in the mailbox. And suddenly, the 19-year-old Nurit stood before me.
As of today, my daughter is officially committed to the army.

And once again, I was reminded: no matter how far I’ve come, how deeply I feel I belong here, how much I’ve unpacked and repacked — I’ll always be an immigrant in this place. Still caught off guard by the new, by the magnitude of everything I haven’t lived. By how many “firsts” my children go through on their own because we don’t know how to guide them.

There’s still time — her process is just beginning. But the letter caught in my throat and stirred something deep in who I used to be.

— Would you have done anything differently?, the 19-year-old me asked.

I took a deep breath, made some coffee, turned to immigrant friends who are riding the same emotional wave. I looked up at the sky — I always say it’s the most beautiful in the world. When my daughter woke up, I handed her the letter. In 30 seconds, she went from surprised to excited. She started researching: documents, deadlines, what she’d need to study. Then she tucked the envelope away, got ready for work, humming — quietly reminding me that when I chose not to go back, I rewrote all the reference points.
And she became Israeli.

— No. Not a thing.