I was moving to America. Then Israel happened
For much of my life, I never imagined that I would end up living in Israel.
I was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and although my Jewish identity was always an important part of my life, Israel seemed like a distant possibility rather than a personal destination.
I had lived in the United States for a year, and my intention was to return there permanently. America was the country where I expected to build the next chapter of my life.
But sometimes life takes a direction we never anticipated.
While I was considering my future in the United States, my wife and daughter, following the advice of a friend, visited the Jewish Agency, the Sochnut, to learn about the possibility of living in Israel.
What they discovered changed our plans.
At the time, we were communicating over the internet. We had many conversations, sometimes long ones, about what moving to Israel would mean for our family.
They were enthusiastic. I was not immediately convinced.
But little by little, their arguments began to make sense. Eventually, they convinced me that Israel deserved a chance.
On September 4, 2001, at the age of 47, I arrived in Israel with my wife, my daughter, my mother, my mother-in-law, my sister-in-law, and even our dog.
One week later, the world changed forever with the attacks of September 11.
We had arrived in a country that was facing its own security challenges. Life was not always easy, and the process of adapting to a new language, a new culture, and a different way of life required determination.
I studied Hebrew intensively, improved my English, worked, traveled, and gradually discovered the country that was becoming my home.
Over the years, I experienced moments that reminded me how fragile life can be in this part of the world. Terrorist attacks, wars, and periods of uncertainty were part of the reality around us.
But I refuse to define my life in Israel through those events.
Because that is not what Israel means to me.
Israel is a country that never stops building, developing, inventing, and moving forward.
It is a multicultural society, with people from different countries, traditions, languages, and backgrounds living together. It is a country that places enormous value on education, knowledge, science, and technological progress.
During these 25 years, I have watched cities expand, roads improve, new neighborhoods appear, universities and research centers flourish, and extraordinary innovations become part of everyday life.
I have also watched my own family grow.
One of the greatest pleasures of living here is knowing that my grandchildren can walk through the streets, during the day or at night, with a sense of freedom and security that I deeply appreciate.
Of course, Israel has problems. Every country does. We argue, complain, disagree, and criticize. Sometimes loudly.
But beneath those disagreements there is something extraordinary: the feeling of belonging to a society whose future is also our responsibility.
I have traveled to many countries throughout my professional life. I have visited wonderful cities, met fascinating people, and admired places of extraordinary beauty.
Yet something happens every time I return to Israel.
As the airplane approaches Ben Gurion Airport, I feel an emotion that is difficult to explain.
I am coming home.
Not simply returning to the place where I live, but returning to the country where I belong.
Twenty-five years ago, I was planning to move to America.
Instead, I came to Israel.
Today, looking back on everything I have experienced, the family I have watched grow, and the extraordinary development of this country, I know that the decision changed my life in ways I could never have imagined.
I am grateful that my wife and daughter convinced me to take that unexpected road.
And after 25 years, I have only one regret.
I wish I had come to Israel 25 years earlier, when I was younger and could have contributed even more to building and defending this extraordinary country.
My only regret is that I did not walk through that door 25 years earlier.
