This was my father's letter to me, sent right before I came back home...

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Prelude
The Kabalists tell us the story of creation through their mystical lens:

Hashem, infused in every molecule
spinning inside each atom and neutrino.
The first act of creation was to make the nothingness,
hanging holiness like lanterns to light the way.
The spherote shattered in a-dam/dirtperson's first sin
Godliness spilling, blending, twisting, merging,
ruining the perfect havdallah

Premise
Our mission, which we accepted
mere moments ago
at Har Sinai
is to expose, uncover, unveil, unearth
the bits of blessedness
collect it to us
tuck it safely in the deep pockets of our nefesh
to be delivered at the end of our travels

Preparations
In these last hours and minutes,
remember that job,
the task you took on during that infinte moment
when God's voice plucked at the strings of our soul,
Truth singing through you

I can't explain how you could
Walk out in the morning's first light
spread your arms, hands, fingers wide, like a net
collect the rays of sun.
I have no trick for catching the wind,
capturing it in your hair, your cloths
So that it will survive the 7,000 miles to us

So do this instead:
Before you go, walk barefoot across the ground.
Promise that no matter how clean you get,
Israel's soil will remain between your toes.

During your break, ignore the doctor's advice
go out without your hat
until you feel the tips of your ears heat from the sun
Promise that even after red fades to tan and eventually to peach,
You will always walk in Jerusalem's light

If you can get back there,
walk once more to the Kotel
Rub your hands raw against the ancient stones
Promise that even after the scabs and scrapes fade
Holiness will be held in every handshake

Imprint Israel, make it part of every sense

Promises
I won't say don't cry.
What a waste that would be.

Cry for the joy of the gift you have received
Cry for those who didn't live long enough to see the things
that became mundane to you, in the months you were there
Cry in frustration for the friendships that will fade
when the distance between you is more than a dorm room.
And cry for joy at the ones that won't.

Water the Land with your tears.
Plant a seed fashioned from your soul
and marvel at what will grow
in holy soil.

T'shuva (Return)

Outside in the warm Israeli summer air, the chatter of girls is all around me, sitting outside, trying to concentrate, trying to clear my thoughts. My head is distracted by thoughts of leaving. My heart is heavy, filled beyond capacity it seems with the the friendships that I know will be hard to keep in the weeks ahead.

Here in this place of chaos I've learned so much about myself - things I never thought possible, things I didn't even know existed. I've learned how I survive without the guidance of my parents, without the constant reinforcement of “the rules”.

I will be going home to a different chaos, which I know won't be as relaxing as I am wishing it to be. I want to stay, I want to never leave. I want to know that this period of fun and learning, this time of kesher (connection) will stay with me forever.

These people who walked so calmly (at least they seemed calm to me, frazzled and frenzied as I felt inside) into my life and made such a difference - I want them to come home with me.

I feel sick inside. Going to Israel is called “Aliyah”, “going up”. But it's as if the transition home is giving me the bends, as if I am rising up out of the depths of learning, out of the complete immersion of The Land and back toward the thin glaring harshness of the surface, where nothing is as meaningful.

I am comforted knowing that not a single moment spent here in Israel was wasted. Every laugh was cherished every smile had a reason, every song sung with passion. Everything happened for a purpose, not one moment was spent without knowing that it was not the happiest time of my life.

It's come down to the last 2 weeks, and I feel as if I will hate them and and love them more than any 2 weeks of my life. The strongest and most sincere emotions are coming forward, and I don't know how I will deal with it all.

But with the help of these amazing friends that I've made, for the rest of my life and on, I know that I'll get through.