Let my right hand forget what it's supposed to do...

It was one year ago today, I discovered my homeland, my place in the world, my journeys end. It was one year ago today, I was in Israel. It was one year ago today, I covered my hair vowing a move to Jerusalem. A year ago I expected nothing from Israel; I was given mixed reviews that I'd be disappointed or I'd never come home.  Turns out it was the latter (in spirit).     I never understood the shechinah, until I put my bags through a security check point and turned the corner...and there it stood, the Western Wall.  In pictures it's a wall, in reality  it's a bolt of lighting.  I hold onto the memory of my right hand on a western block and my left hand clutching my siddur.  It was the end of Shushan Purim.  I looked up through teary eyes; there was a clear sky, a large moon, and a potent reality my head was uncovered.   My journey is complete with pitfalls and major triumphs.  From a small town in Mass, to a  fashion capital,  to following ghostly footsteps back to my people... I cover my hair because something over took me at that wall.  I make challah every week because it has come to define me.   I finally live the words we as a congregation utter too easily...Next Year in Jerusalem.