Feeling Something I Cannot Name

Today was a fine day - relatively quiet at work - a good day to learn new things and plan for the future. My mind was active, exploring new resources and researching new information.

On the way home, the weather was noticeably cooler.  I caught a bus that doesn't take me quite as close as my usual bus, but it was a good day to walk a little, so I didn't mind.  During the ride, I thought about how I often feel the most Israeli when I'm on the bus.

Through the window, I looked around at the somewhat unfamiliar route and thought, for about the bajillionith time, how astonishing it is that I live in Israel now.

With both earbuds in and the volume pretty high, I listened to unfamiliar music by a familiar singer and, I can't say why, I started focusing on her voice.  Just her voice.  It was so breathtakingly beautiful.

As I walked the path home, the sun was setting and Wynonna Judd was singing a sentimental song in my ear about saying goodbye to people we love. And I felt a bit weepy.  Blessed, despite its undeniable frustrations, by the opportunity to live here.  Blessed by the ability to carry myself home on my own two feet.  Blessed by the ability to hear and appreciate music. Blessed by the astonishing scenery that is part of my daily life. Blessed by the weather, which suits me. Blessed by the fact that I have lived long enough to have said goodbye to people I love, but that I was not likely to be asked to do so tonight.

It was completely dark when I arrived home.  No one else was home yet, so I sat on the mirpeset, felt the Jerusalem breeze on my neck, felt my tears well up, concentrated on a few more songs and tried to name what I was feeling.