We drove to Yerushalayim today. More specifically, I drove to Yerushalayim, since Husbinator wanted to nap in the car. It turns out that I have the same problem driving through the Israeli countryside as I had driving with Sam in the front seat when were first married: I am so overwhelmed by the novel beauty that it's difficult to focus on the task at hand.
I mostly kept my eyes on the road, but every time I topped a hill or rounded a curve (which on Route 90 is pretty much constantly), that heart-wrenching, stomach-twisting beauty would hit me again, and all I'd want was what was right in front of me: my Israel.
I've read of Jews kissing the ground of Israel, and it always sounded a little contrived and kind of awkward. And I still don't want to "kneel down and kiss the earth of the Holy Land," but if I were tall enough to embrace those hills, you know I would give my Eretz Yisrael one big ol' hug. Maybe I can find a cliff to lean against and have a little snuggle.
So yes, I see where the dust-kissing may have come from: after all, I want Israel so much I can literally taste it.
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