This post has been written as a submission to Scribbit's January (2009) "Write-Away contest".
My three year love came to an end just as the most recent Hamas vs. Israel war began.
The words "The Finish Line" bring to mind a race or a marathon, something that requires a lot of training and energy but then ends, one way or another. The participants in a race clearly know where the finish line is marked, but they don't know who is going to be first in line or what time it will take to get the winner there.
But the Finish Line in love and war is less clear. I supposed I knew that my last relationship would end, but I didn't know when, and I didn't know how. The Finish Line in my case was a plane ticket. My boyfriend of 3 years decided to take a break from Israel and travel abroad. I knew that the date he was set to play would mark a separation in our relationship. What I didn't know was that it would be finished completely when I discovered, the day that he flew, that he had started a different relationship with someone else. Well, that was the Finish Line for that relationship. I confronted the woman, who did not know about me, and she actually thanked me for disclosing his disloyalty, that she didn't know about it. Now Mr. formerly wonderful has no one to return to - neither of us want a dishonest person in our lives....
So I moved on, past the Finish Line of this relationship.
And then the "ceasefire" between Hamas and Israel ended. Sad thing was it wasn't a ceasefire to begin with due to all the missiles falling on southern Israel for the past few years, but when it officially ended, its "Finish Line" became in fact the beginning of a war. More missiles, longer range, more extensive damage. Israel's Defense Army (IDF), being just that, a defense army felt that they could not sit still and leave its citizens undefended any longer against the missiles and therefore fought back with air and ground forces.
I really hope that the deadline for this contest is also the Finish Line for the suffering on both ends and that the Start Line will begin: beginnings for peace; beginnings for love and new, honest relationships....
But who am I kidding. I'm a single (divorced) mom living in Israel. New love for me? Maybe. End to the Hamas-Israel conflict? I doubt it. My 14 year old teenager Finishing His Homework.? Impossible.
This writer thinks that world peace is a more realistic Finish Line than a new boyfriend or a gifted teenager learning to finish his homework.
Showing posts with label Scribbit write-away contest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scribbit write-away contest. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Kisses are a Girl's Best Friend
Kisses are a Girl's Best Friend
The following is my submission for Scribbit's write-away contest for August, 2008.
We had been dating for a few months. He spent most of his nights at my apartment, as it was more convenient and closer to Tel Aviv, where we both worked. We had already declared that we loved each other, and I had already accepted his marriage proposal. But in Israel, you usually go from dating to marriage, and the engagement stage is shorter and less celebrated.
Although I am Canadian and my fiance was Australian, I didn't expect him to be any different from our Israeli-born friends. The fact that we had set a date and already announced our engagement to our parents seemed serious enough to me. I was elated that after four years since my immigration to Israel, a few failed relationships and some spurts of just plain loneliness, I had found someone with similar values and from a similar culture with whom to share my life and my future.
Or so I thought.
One night, a few weeks after we made our intent to marry public, my fiance told me he had something special to give me. He handed me a decorated box full of Hershey's Kisses. I was delighted, being a chocolate lover. It had been several hours since we had eaten dinner, so I happily unwrapped a few Kisses and enjoyed the taste and texture of non-Israeli chocolate.
"So, what do you think?” he asked.
"Thanks a lot. It was really nice of your sister to bring back these chocolates all the way from Australia.”
"Did you look through the entire box?”
"No, don't worry. I left some kisses for you”, I reassured him.
"Look again.”
Confused, I returned to the bedroom. Following his prompt, I emptied all the Kisses on to my bed, and saw that one of them shined. It wasn't a kiss at all, but his late grandmother's diamond ring, sent all the way from Australia. And now it was my engagement ring.
The next day at work everyone marvelled at the jewel on my finger.
But this writer had agreed to marry him already, even before the first kiss.
The following is my submission for Scribbit's write-away contest for August, 2008.
We had been dating for a few months. He spent most of his nights at my apartment, as it was more convenient and closer to Tel Aviv, where we both worked. We had already declared that we loved each other, and I had already accepted his marriage proposal. But in Israel, you usually go from dating to marriage, and the engagement stage is shorter and less celebrated.
Although I am Canadian and my fiance was Australian, I didn't expect him to be any different from our Israeli-born friends. The fact that we had set a date and already announced our engagement to our parents seemed serious enough to me. I was elated that after four years since my immigration to Israel, a few failed relationships and some spurts of just plain loneliness, I had found someone with similar values and from a similar culture with whom to share my life and my future.
Or so I thought.
One night, a few weeks after we made our intent to marry public, my fiance told me he had something special to give me. He handed me a decorated box full of Hershey's Kisses. I was delighted, being a chocolate lover. It had been several hours since we had eaten dinner, so I happily unwrapped a few Kisses and enjoyed the taste and texture of non-Israeli chocolate.
"So, what do you think?” he asked.
"Thanks a lot. It was really nice of your sister to bring back these chocolates all the way from Australia.”
"Did you look through the entire box?”
"No, don't worry. I left some kisses for you”, I reassured him.
"Look again.”
Confused, I returned to the bedroom. Following his prompt, I emptied all the Kisses on to my bed, and saw that one of them shined. It wasn't a kiss at all, but his late grandmother's diamond ring, sent all the way from Australia. And now it was my engagement ring.
The next day at work everyone marvelled at the jewel on my finger.
But this writer had agreed to marry him already, even before the first kiss.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Wonder Woman Alarm Clock
The Wonder Woman Alarm Clock
Following is my submission to Scribbit's July Write-away contest.
I was uninspired. With all those amazing women out there writing about their abilities to juggle family, work, and themselves, how could I possibly come up with an original idea? We all know there is nothing really new under the sun, and it's not what you say but how you say it.and in some cases, it doesn't matter what is said, but who says it.
When I'm at work, I think about home. When I'm home, I think about work.
I'm supposed to meet a deadline regarding an important press release when I realize that the deadline for the Scribbit "Write-away" contest is July 16th? How did that creep up so quickly? Now what's more important, the Scribbit contest, while I might get readers to look at my blog of postings written BB (before blogs)eight years ago, or meeting the deadline for a company that actually pays my salary? Either it's the summer heat,onset of adult ADD or something else, but my mind is wandering all over the place - Wander as opposed to Wonder Woman?
I really thought I lost all my marbles this morning when my bed started to shake at 6:35 am and I went back to sleep, convinced that I was having a bad dream.
When I did wake up later (at 8:00 am), I heard on the news that there had been an earthquake in near the Greek Island of Rhodes that measured 6.8 on the Richter scale and was felt in Israel at 6:35 a.m., mainly in the northern and central parts of the country.
This writer lives in the central part of Israel! She isn't Wonder Woman. She may be Wander Woman. But what is true, she did find the most powerful alarm clock in the world this morning!
Following is my submission to Scribbit's July Write-away contest.
I was uninspired. With all those amazing women out there writing about their abilities to juggle family, work, and themselves, how could I possibly come up with an original idea? We all know there is nothing really new under the sun, and it's not what you say but how you say it.and in some cases, it doesn't matter what is said, but who says it.
When I'm at work, I think about home. When I'm home, I think about work.
I'm supposed to meet a deadline regarding an important press release when I realize that the deadline for the Scribbit "Write-away" contest is July 16th? How did that creep up so quickly? Now what's more important, the Scribbit contest, while I might get readers to look at my blog of postings written BB (before blogs)eight years ago, or meeting the deadline for a company that actually pays my salary? Either it's the summer heat,onset of adult ADD or something else, but my mind is wandering all over the place - Wander as opposed to Wonder Woman?
I really thought I lost all my marbles this morning when my bed started to shake at 6:35 am and I went back to sleep, convinced that I was having a bad dream.
When I did wake up later (at 8:00 am), I heard on the news that there had been an earthquake in near the Greek Island of Rhodes that measured 6.8 on the Richter scale and was felt in Israel at 6:35 a.m., mainly in the northern and central parts of the country.
This writer lives in the central part of Israel! She isn't Wonder Woman. She may be Wander Woman. But what is true, she did find the most powerful alarm clock in the world this morning!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Round and Round the Teenager
Note: this is a departure from my regular blog posts because:
1. it happens in the present (when I'm 45 and my son is 14)
2. it is not about dating, although it is about parenting as a single, divorced mom
3. it is my first entry to Scribbit. This month's write-away contest has the theme "Going Places", so here I go.
Round and Round the Teenager
When I moved into my apartment building 12 years ago, my son's arm could barely reach the ground-floor button in the elevator. The ride up and down the elevator to the ninth floor must have seemed like a big trip for him.
Now at 5' 5" (165 cm) and growing, my fourteen-year old now calls me "shorty". He outdoes me in almost any aspect as do most of his classmates in his gifted class, and looking at him, just finishing 7th Grade (or Grade 7 as they say in Canada and "kita zayin" in Israel in Hebrew), I drift back to my own summers as a teenager.
Although I had a seemingly conventional family (mother, father, sister, brother and canary), summer cottage, sailboat, canoe, and chipmunks a
nd squirrels we managed to domesticate, with the help of some sunflower seeds conveniently strewn on the steps leading up to the cottage, I dreaded the loneliness of not seeing my friends in the summer. They spent their summer
at the other side of the lake, which was 60 miles (100 kilometers) away.
I spent my days swimming or canoeing in the half-frozen lake, thankful for the fact that we had mosquitoes on our side of the lake, but the west side of the lake had mosquitoes AND fish flies. I never experienced the now common occurrence of bears actually coming up to the cottage property, scouting out food.
Fast forward back to my fourteen year-old. How different his summers are -no father, sister, brother or bird (at least not living with him since I'm divorced and don't recall giving birth to any other kids), computers, internet, Tel Aviv humidity combined with 40-degree Celsius heat,
but with no hole in the ozone layer like in Canada. He also doesn't seem very interested in meeting up with his friends. After endless tests and projects, bar mitzvah parties and end-of-year get- togethers, his peers just want one thing - to sleep-in.
Tomorrow we are going to the funeral of a dear family friend, 80-years old, who was like a grandfather to my son. When I'm eighty, my son will be forty-nine, five years older than I am today. Will there be any water left in the lakes? Will there be any fuel to power the planes across the oceans?
The price of gas doesn't affect the time-traveling mind of this writer,nor her teenager who will have to be content with traveling round and round Wikipedia until this writer finishes paying for his bar mitzvah travels and festivities from last year. (But that's another post yet to be written..)
1. it happens in the present (when I'm 45 and my son is 14)
2. it is not about dating, although it is about parenting as a single, divorced mom
3. it is my first entry to Scribbit. This month's write-away contest has the theme "Going Places", so here I go.
Round and Round the Teenager
When I moved into my apartment building 12 years ago, my son's arm could barely reach the ground-floor button in the elevator. The ride up and down the elevator to the ninth floor must have seemed like a big trip for him.
Now at 5' 5" (165 cm) and growing, my fourteen-year old now calls me "shorty". He outdoes me in almost any aspect as do most of his classmates in his gifted class, and looking at him, just finishing 7th Grade (or Grade 7 as they say in Canada and "kita zayin" in Israel in Hebrew), I drift back to my own summers as a teenager.
Although I had a seemingly conventional family (mother, father, sister, brother and canary), summer cottage, sailboat, canoe, and chipmunks a
nd squirrels we managed to domesticate, with the help of some sunflower seeds conveniently strewn on the steps leading up to the cottage, I dreaded the loneliness of not seeing my friends in the summer. They spent their summerat the other side of the lake, which was 60 miles (100 kilometers) away.
I spent my days swimming or canoeing in the half-frozen lake, thankful for the fact that we had mosquitoes on our side of the lake, but the west side of the lake had mosquitoes AND fish flies. I never experienced the now common occurrence of bears actually coming up to the cottage property, scouting out food.
Fast forward back to my fourteen year-old. How different his summers are -no father, sister, brother or bird (at least not living with him since I'm divorced and don't recall giving birth to any other kids), computers, internet, Tel Aviv humidity combined with 40-degree Celsius heat,
but with no hole in the ozone layer like in Canada. He also doesn't seem very interested in meeting up with his friends. After endless tests and projects, bar mitzvah parties and end-of-year get- togethers, his peers just want one thing - to sleep-in.
Tomorrow we are going to the funeral of a dear family friend, 80-years old, who was like a grandfather to my son. When I'm eighty, my son will be forty-nine, five years older than I am today. Will there be any water left in the lakes? Will there be any fuel to power the planes across the oceans?
The price of gas doesn't affect the time-traveling mind of this writer,nor her teenager who will have to be content with traveling round and round Wikipedia until this writer finishes paying for his bar mitzvah travels and festivities from last year. (But that's another post yet to be written..)
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