my morning

בס"ד


I peek my head out of the covers as I hear my phone alarm getting louder. It is morning again. The weather is usually the same this time of year, foggy with a chance of rain. There is something special here about the fog, being almost a kilometer up in the sky changes the fog into a cloud. I always imagine that when it rains and it is also foggy, the rain drop started coming down only a few inches above my head.

Ready to face the day, I try to get ready to face the weather. It is cold here, and windy. Our school is in a settlement of caravans, about six or seven scattered around a small cement patio always sprinkled with spray paint marks after some program that needed homemade center-pieces. The administrators prides themselves on the lack of physical beauty, as they think the true beauty of each place should be the spirituality within. I agree. But I still have to layer on my clothes, as those caravans have no insulation. With boots on top of socks, a skirt on top of leggings, and jacket on top of a sweater on top of a polo on top of a tee - I am finally ready to head out to that foggy road going to the caravan plaza.


I step outside with a certain smile plastered to my face. It is so nice to live in a neighborhood where I know my neighbors. It is so nice to live a short hill down from my school. My appreciation for small town, community living has only increased since my seclusion in Tzfat, population 30,000. Disliking the service in the only yarn store in town, not being able to shop on Tuesdays because it is the accepted practice that stores close by lunch, and getting stuck in a store because the owner asked me to "look over things" while he "stepped out" all included, it is a nice place to live. This is how I start my school day, every day.