And here I was. The start of a new journey, the kind that searched for answers that didn’t exist but that you had to seek out, anyway

Song of Ascents, from my depths I called out to You.

Listen to my voice; may Your ears be attentive to the sound of my pleas…

I yearn for my G-d, among those longing for the dawn,

those longing for the dawn.

[Tehillim 130]

  

I’m generally not the superstitious type, but it’s never a good omen when the first thing you feel when reaching the Kosel, after a five-year hiatus, is pigeon droppings raining onto your arm.

Gross.

I wiped it off as best and as piously as I could, but honestly, I was a bit disheartened. Day One. Well.

Thirty-nine more to go.

  

“There’s this rock, deep within the hills of Teveria,” Baily had announced two days ago, as we pulled up alongside Terminal 4 at JFK, “supposedly there for thousands of years, the rain eroded what looks like the letter shin – I saw the picture, it’s true — and my cousin’s niece davened there and got engaged two months later. I’ll send you the GPS coordinates. And I heard about a girl who circled the shtender of some rebbe in Ramallah, seven times, or maybe it was Ramle, got engaged a week later—”

“His shtender?”

“He’s not dead yet.”

“Which rebbe?”

“Who cares? The point is, it worked. I’ll text you all this info later. You gave me your Israeli number, right? Woo-hoo! Chevy, I have a really good feeling about this trip. I’m so excited! I’m getting the first phone call! I’m going to start shopping for vort shoes already!”

“Totally,” I’d said, flashing her a smile, as she’d popped the trunk and I’d gone to retrieve my luggage.

  

Yes, I was going for the forty-days business; not so much for marriage, actually, though I’d planned to keep that in mind, too. And of course that’s what everyone assumed, anyway. But what really prompted the trip was other stuff I was dealing with. I’d recently been dealt some complicated life cards, and I needed a break to recharge my emotional and spiritual batteries.

My flight was a one-way ticket, too. I planned to come back eventually, but wasn’t sure when. Living in my Detroit hometown without anyone else near my age was certainly not an option, and “in town,” where I’d been renting an apartment the past few years, was losing its appeal. I was off for the summer from my Board of Education position anyway, so I’d applied for a leave of absence for the first half of the academic year to make this fling possible.

And here I was. The start of a new journey, the kind that searched for answers that didn’t exist but that you had to seek out, anyway.

The flight was uneventful and I quickly settled into my apartment in Ezras Torah. My father’s great-aunt had maintained a place there and I’d been able to arrange a two-month stay, though I’d found out last-minute that I’d be having a roommate, a girl in her low twenties who somehow knew my cousin, Penina. I unpacked and grabbed a quick shower to wipe down the airplane cooties. Then I fought back the waves of tiredness threatening to overtake me and trekked to Geula to change money and shop for some food basics, especially important since Gila would be arriving later that day.

I’d spoken to Nefesh b’Nefesh before I’d booked my ticket, figuring out how to transfer my degrees. I’d worked as a school psychologist for years, then more recently completed a second degree in clinical psychology. I hadn’t yet worked in the field, but two graduate degrees opened up several job options to explore. Michal, a friend I’d met in the clinical psychology program who’d moved to Israel after finishing her degree, had been a great resource, emailing job opportunities from the American list serv.

So. Lots of stuff on my to-do list for this summer’s trip to the Holy Land.

I lifted the iced coffee I’d picked up on the way back from Geula. “L'chayim,” I said out loud, to the empty apartment, and took a sip.

A knock sounded just then — Gila, I guess — and I went to open the door.

“Um, hi! You’re Chevi?”

The girl facing me was young, freckled, and pretty — “going through a hard time,” Penina had told me. She smiled earnestly, the two enormous suitcases behind her visually overpowering her small frame. Gila, as Penina explained, ended up on a last-minute flight to Israel and needed a place to stay.

I helped shlep in her luggage.

“I’m going to run now,” I told her apologetically, after giving her a fast tour of the apartment. I needed to get to the Kosel for Minchah and shkiah was in a little over an hour. “You can use my shower stuff or anything in the bathroom, there’s a stash of bakery rolls in the freezer, toaster on the counter, and yogurt and fruit in the fridge.”

I rushed out, leaving Gila to work out the rest on her own.

Day One.