I woke up this morning to a text from my daughter.
“hey. Are you free around 1pm today. Wanna meet for coffee on my way home.”
When Hadassah moved to Israel last August, I imagined these dad-daughter dates would be few and far between. We’d see each other on visits, spend as much time together as we could, and then wait for the next one.
Now they’ve become something of a weekly ritual. And honestly, there is nothing more special.
My daughter is on her way home from a long week in the army and wants to have coffee with me. And I get to say yes.
There’s a lot in that little exchange. She has a life full of things I’m only partly able to understand, responsibilities that are hers, experiences I hear about afterward. I’m grateful that somewhere in the middle of all of it, she wants to sit with her dad.
And that we live close enough for it to be a casual invitation.
It got me thinking about how much else I’m grateful for these days. I’ve spent a fair amount of time writing about the adjustments of moving, about what I miss and what has been difficult. This morning, I wanted to spend a little time with what I’m glad to have.
My shul, for one. It’s lively and full of energy, and each time I go, it’s a bit of an adventure. I never quite know what I’m going to get, though amazing singing and dancing are a pretty safe bet.
I find myself moved there regularly. There is something about joining my voice to everyone else’s, or locking arms and dancing, that reaches me even when I arrive carrying a lot in my head. I’m grateful to have somewhere to go where I can bring all of that with me and sing.
I’m grateful for quiet time with each of my kids. I love having everyone together, but there’s something precious about being with one child at a time. The conversation has room to wander. I get to hear a little more, ask another question, and spend time with the person they’re becoming.
A few weeks ago, on motzei Shabbos, Devorah and I went for a stroll. We were just walking and having a nice chat when the realization hit me: wow, we are walking the streets of Jerusalem.
We live here.
I know that’s an obvious thing to say. We moved here. We have an apartment, bills, errands, all the things that make a place your everyday life. And still, sometimes in the middle of something completely ordinary, it catches me.
I’m walking through Jerusalem with my wife.
I’m grateful for those walks, for the chance to talk and enjoy each other’s company while we find our way through this new chapter together.
And I’m grateful for the people who have found their way to our Shabbos table. Yeshiva students from just about every yeshiva you can imagine. Lone soldiers. Searchers and wanderers. Longtime Jerusalemites and old friends.
I love the mix. Different stories, different questions, different ways of seeing the world, all sitting around the same table.
Some bring amazing conversation. Others bring melodies and harmonies that make my heart sing as loudly as the yeshiva students around them. I’m grateful that our home is filling with people and that we get to know them this way, over a meal that has time to stretch.
I love that friends have had book launches and I’ve been able to go. There’s a particular pleasure in being able to show up for someone, to celebrate something they’ve put so much of themselves into. I’m enjoying being close enough to be in the room.
I’m moved by the raw emotion and authenticity teeming in the streets of Jerusalem. People’s questions, convictions, joy, and pain can feel very close to the surface here. Sometimes it’s a lot to take in. Often, it leaves me wanting to listen longer.
And I’m grateful to live in a city where Hashem and Torah are front and center. They shape the rhythm of the week and find their way into everyday conversation. I’m still discovering what it feels like to make my home here, and that is a part of it I cherish.
I’m thankful for the love and support of family. For being able to spend time together and take part in family simchas. After living far away, I appreciate how much it means to be able to attend, to share the occasion, and to have time together beyond catching up on everything we’ve missed.
There are things I miss that I’ve written about, and others I haven’t found the words for yet. Some days, those absences feel quite sharp. I’m still working my way through them.
I also want to give my attention to all of this. To the people filling our home, the singing in shul, the walks with Devorah, the time with our kids. These are things I hoped for, and I’m getting to experience them.
I don’t want to become so accustomed to having them that I forget how much they mean to me.
This morning, Hadassah asked if I was free.
Coffee at 1pm.
I’m so grateful I get to go.