The dusty sand pink of the sunset rises from behind the mountains as we make our way home from Tzfas. The color is the same as our living room walls. The Kinneret is dusk blue.

“Bring blue into the living room” I make a note as I’m in the middle of creating my home’s landscape. Remember the outside reflects the inside.

As we turn a steep mountain an amazing unusual sight juts out from the landscape. A lone olive tree growing sideways out of the mountain. Its thick trunk and full leaves bend and reach completely sideways.

Something about the tree sums up the trip to Tzfas. Though I hardly had a minute to daven in all the places I had hoped you never know what comes home with you from holy places. I know something must have happened there as there’s no trip that doesn’t change us.

Hitchhikers’ hands begin to reach even further out into the road as the sun continues to set and the slivered moon begins to dominate.

We pick up the one with the biggest backpack. He gets in before he even asks where we’re headed. We ask where he’s going and he says “I’m not sure” and gets out at the first gas station.

“Why does he look so sad and confused?” my daughter asks.

“It’s from traveling alone too long” I say.

“Maybe he likes to be alone” she says.

“Maybe he hasn’t yet found the right company” I say.

Empty spaces followed by cities of light.

The car makes its noises letting us know it’s growing tired.

We talk about trading in the old car about the rise and fall of car manufacturers wrapping it all up with “complacency is the introduction to defeat.”

One drinks three get thirsty.

Our son in America calls — him not being here is an empty patch in our family’s landscape.

My daughter’s sunburned to a crisp from seven hours straight in the sun.

We offer Tylenol coercing “Takes away all pain.”

We hit a stretch where there’s only the smell of burning fodder.

Roads carved through mountains.

I continue to see the striking image of the tree growing sideways out of the side of the mountain — strong and full.

Cell phones don’t stop ringing.

Dirt roads with no signs.

The sun continues going down into the ocean. Enough light remains to see that there’s more than enough land here for all the Yidden to come back.

Suddenly we hit stretches of complete darkness. Cars pass trucks with brights on.

Everything looks so different in the dark.

How did they ever do this trip on camel back?

Time for a rest stop.

We’re driving so fast the air coming in from the windows sounds like a plane.

Then we spot it — planted neons in the middle of nowhere.

We pull up.

I notice the coffee shop has six workers serving only one customer. A never-ending volcano of steam rises from the espresso bar.

I can’t help but wonder how someone gets here — how a life lands in this desolate place.

Must be the landscape for their soul’s journey.

Again I see the image of the slanted olive tree bending and reaching on the side of the mountain strong and full.

I get the message. We have to grow as best we can in the place G-d plants us. This is G-d’s landscape.