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Home
and Family
Moving -- or -- All For the Best
by S. G.
It was quite a shock. One morning, our landlord called us and
said they were planning to sell the apartment we rented, the
one we had been living in for the last twelve years. It took
me quite a while to digest the information. Israelis who live
in rented apartments don't usually consider them home. Home
is a place you pay for (dearly) and can then fix up any way
you want. And best of all, no one in the world can evict you
from there. But I grew up in America and after so many years
in the same place, we had come to think of our airy bird's
nest as home.
I remember so well when we first moved into our top floor
apartment with its view of the Jerusalem hills and the
highway beyond. At first, the seven story apartment building
with its bridge across the middle [four flights up, three
below the bridge] had seemed strange. We come from a small
town in the south of Israel where we lived in a comfortable
private house with a garden bordered by a grove of
eucalyptus. The children had grown accustomed to nature and
country life and were hesitant to make the move. However, the
idea of going to Jerusalem appealed to all of us, especially
since most of our family lived there and we would be within
walking distance on Shabbos. Still, it had taken time, but
with the years, our apartment in the sky grew on us (and with
us) and as the children matured and married, it become like a
second home to the new couples. Shabbos, Yom Tov and
simchas of all kinds were celebrated in that three
room apartment which seemed to stretch according to need.
For some reason, my kitchen, small as it was, became the
favorite gathering place for everyone. With its stunning view
of the Jerusalem hills and Kever Shmuel Hanovi, no one
noticed that there was practically no room to turn around in.
Coffee, cake, tea, sandwiches and whole meals were happily
dispensed and consumed in that bright airy space. Couples and
children sat around Friday night after the seuda and
latecomers would join them for animated talks.
Now it was time to change homes again. The owners wanted to
sell as soon as possible and had already put ads in the
papers. Every day another group of apartment hunters would
walk through our home. Mostly they counted floor tiles
(standard size, with twenty centimeters to each, five to a
meter) and some of them actually looked up to check out
walls, ceilings and plumbing. This went on for several weeks
until the apartment was finally sold. Then the new owners
announced that they would take over right away, and could we
please hurry up and find a place to move to, the sooner the
better.
Now it was our turn to scout around looking for another place
to live. Although everyone kept telling me that b'ezrat
Hashem we would find a better apartment, I couldn't help
feeling that we would have a hard time getting one which
suited us so well. I never knew there were so many odd
looking apartments around. Some of them seemed to have been
built without a thought for human comfort: enormous living
rooms and tiny bedrooms, high floors without elevators, tiny
kitchens with miniature counters (and I thought my kitchen
was small), high windows and rooms without.
I began to appreciate the ones which seemed designed for
normal human living. We finally found it! A decent looking
flat on the second floor -- normal sized kitchen (bigger than
the previous one) with two sinks, decent living room,
porches, nice layout, no stunning view but trees in the back
and a pleasant street in the front. Of course, it was more
expensive and I would have to work overtime to make ends meet
(do they ever, I wonder?). But mostly, I was pleased that the
rooms could accommodate guests without cramping.
We took it, moved in and now I realize how, in spite of my
original misgivings, with Hashem's help everything really
turned out for the best. The new apartment suits us better
and after several weeks, we are finally starting to feel that
we belong here.
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