Well Shalom from the other side!
What side is the other side one may wonder?
The side where you have no home. No place to hang your clothes or to store your high heels that you still have yet to wear. The side where you have searched for an apartment forever and every apartment owner that you approach wants not only your first born child (or your cellphone) and DNA samples but a letter or two from BiBi (Netanyahu) himself to rent to an Olah Cadisha.
I mean, I totally get it. We are here attempting to build our lives which is not the easiest thing to do and a ton of new immigrants change their minds and bail out. They come and say, oh wait, this is not as easy as I thought it would be, it’s downright hard (חזק). Homeowners don’t want to take the chance on us which is crazy considering we are a country of immigrants. I get it but what about the ones that really want it and are willing to claw their way out the bottom of the barrel? The ones that really want to give themselves the time and have the chutzpah (big ones to even come this far) to tough it out? The ones that can’t go home because home is where they are at this very moment.
So here I am am writing about my homelessness and my gypsy moments on the autobus, sitting in crazy pre-shabbat traffic and heavy rain wondering if that contract that I am supposed to sign in two days will be the one because I am exhausted. I am so ready to just live and grow. I have so many ideas. I have something to offer to this land. I came to this country to upgrade my soul and to shine and I am willing to fight for my status to remain Israeli but I can’t fully get into soldier mode until I can stop brushing my teeth with a traveling toothbrush.