Disneyland with Our Hero

I don’t even remember the last time I went to Disneyland, maybe seventeen years ago. But last week, I made up my mind:
I’m going!

The reason? Our soldier grandson, Eli, who finally received a few days’ leave from his base to attend a family simcha in Los Angeles.

The last two times I visited Israel this year, Eli couldn’t get a single Shabbat off. That’s how intense the war was and how much he was needed at his Air Force base. He’s an integral part of the operation, and in just a few months, he rose through the ranks. I wasn’t upset about missing him before, I felt too much pride pulsing in my chest to let longing take over.

But this week was different.

When I picked him up from the airport, I held a big sign and an Israeli flag. The moment I saw him walking with his father, standing tall and proud like a true soldier, I couldn’t help myself, I waved, hopped a little, and ran toward him.

I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Eli. The next day, I picked him and his younger brother up for a fun day in Hollywood. We started at the Museum of Illusions, taking the craziest pictures, Eli staging his brother so it looked like he was falling off the side of a skyscraper. I laughed so hard we had to retake the shot a few times (my phone even hit the floor at one point).

And then came Disneyland.

Honestly, I was a bit apprehensive visions of huge crowds, endless lines, and a long exhausting day danced in my mind. But to my surprise, it was a perfect experience. School was back in session in L.A., summer was officially over, and the lines were short.

But the best part? Seeing our hero soldier just have fun.

The last few months, especially those tense two weeks during the Iran war were incredibly stressful for him. His new position came with even more responsibility, and he took it seriously. Once, when I managed to reach him during the fighting, I asked:

“Eli, do you get some sleep? Do you get enough food?”
“Omama,” he said, “I don’t have time to think of food or sleep.”

That memory hit me as I walked down Main Street, past Fantasyland and Tomorrowland, these magical, make-believe places where you can slip away and forget real life. Forget wars. Forget danger.

Eli still knows how to laugh, how to play, how to be young. And I was the luckiest grandmother in the world to witness that.