Nurit Gil
Nurit Gil
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The adventure tales, the warm milk and our dreams

Dream big. But never forget: We are Jews with all our hearts. You are descendants of heroes. Tell your children.
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My dear children,

It was windy earlier today and I woke up in the wee hours of the morning wondering if I would take you to school. Whether I would take you out from under the blanket with your bodies still warm and your head trying to abandon your dreams. But reason overcame my instinct to cherish and I softly said good morning, while offering the warm milk that was already on the bedside table. You complained, giving a lot of silly reasons to dislike the school that is your second home and where you have so many friends. I answered the usual, that we need to study in order to have the autonomy to be whoever we want in life. And after all, I also hate almost everything at six-thirty in the morning.

Today you are uncertain whether you will be a scientist, a supermarket owner, or a superhero, but you are still in awe of all the school grades that stretch to what seems like infinity. Did you do all this, mom? Yes, I did, and believe me, infinity arrived in a flash.

I defrosted chicken for dinner and still had time to bake a vanilla cake for the afternoon, before sitting down in front of the computer and working. One day I will tell you how many times I reinvented my work and your father will tell you that he, on the other hand, loves unconditionally the profession he chose by vocation, although I believe that you already know that. And then, while we drink some tea or coffee or mate, you will tell us about the latest discoveries on the paths you will have chosen.

For now, I look forward to hugging you at the end of the day, to asking you eleven times to get in the bath, and to insisting that you eat something green for dinner. To snuggle under the blanket with you in the early evening, to make up adventure tales and to ensure that dreams really do come true. To looking into the two pairs of eyes that give my life meaning, knowing that I will miss it all when infinity comes.

But now read carefully. It was not only study that made us who we chose to be. Long before I even complained about waking up early to go to school, your grandparents did. Before them, there were your great-grandparents. And it is about them that you need to know.

The adventure tales, the warm milk, the profession and our dreams only exist because they, forbidden to dream, survived. And when they did, they guaranteed our right to exist. When they did not abandon their identity, they guaranteed our right to be. And when the State of Israel was born, they guaranteed our right to dream.

So dream. A lot. Dream big. Fly. But never forget:
We are Jews with all our hearts.
You are descendants of heroes.
Tell your children.
Fight for Israel.
And be whoever you want to be.

Today, we can.

Love you,
Mom

(In the seven-day interval, we remember in Israel the victims and heroes of the Holocaust (08.04), the fallen soldiers and victims of terrorism (14.04), and the independence of the State of Israel (15.05), in a sequence that is a clear analogy of tragedy and liberation. It is my favorite week of the year. And the one that gives meaning to the suitcases I packed to cross the ocean).

About the Author
Nurit Masijah Gil is a Brazilian-Israeli writer with nearly 100 chronicles published in Portuguese in both countries. In 2014, she launched her book titled "Little Ms. Perfect," in which she tells about her tragicomic wife-and-mom life. In 2017, she moved to Israel with her family. In 2019, she changed her busy suburban life as a content writer at a startup company, in Israel's central region, for a peaceful life at her own oasis at the Arava desert -- a 1,000-member ishuv -- where she has crowned her aliyah.
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