Born in the lush green countryside.
Raised in the ragged desert.
Until this day, I remember feeling like I did not belong.
I used to always sit in the back of the class, where I would not be asked any questions, where I could drift off.
I still remember the rough sofa cover where we first lived when we made aliya to Israel.
The harsh language, the fiery summers.
My fair skin burnt, my blond hair darkened.
I escaped into my family bubble time and time again.
The humor we shared the music, the fact we had no one else.
There were so many things I did not understand, but I did not dare to ask.
Me and David my brother, created our own little safe house, we watched Disney movies on repeat. We escaped into fantasy, we found comfort there, we felt like we belonged in front of that very small black television. We spent days like that, with no disturbance.
My brother Liam, 10 years older than me, Was like a wonderful parent figure and still is. My parents both worked full time, so they always had him to count on to look after us.
But he did not find the comfort he needed to stay, so he returned back to where he felt was home. At the age of 17, back To the damp cold green, he truly loved.
Forever torn between us and where he belongs.
I admire him so much.
Family Shabbat meals were always small.
But I must say, I loved our family meals.
My mom would cook the best British food on the hottest summer days, sweating over our plates, enjoying every bite, and feeling very sick after as we always over ate.
I think those are some of the happiest memories I have.
Until this day, I find the silver lining in food and family time.
There are still days where the doubts start to rise within.
The memories that haunt me.
The textures, the smells of the bushes that surrounded our building, the sandpit.
Cycling around and around the concrete building as if there was nowhere to go further.
I have found relief in growing older.
I was a shy and tormented little girl.
I would walk home from first-class by myself, always looking down at the mishmash pave stones. I never looked up.
I would listen to sad music and write sad poetry, it freed me.
As my Granny April always said, there is nothing like having a good cry, And my dear Grandpa Steven, with his wise voice, even over the phone at times kept me alive.
My own gentle giant.
At my saddest, I felt most alive.
When I was happy I felt I had everything to lose, so I avoided it.
In a way, I avoided life.
I always had big dreams, I would drift off to snowy picks.
Where I would behold all the mountings piercing the sheet of fluffy cloud.
I was above all the noise, the fear. I was brave.
Now, looking back.
Nothing was perfect or should have been.
But, I was always loved.
Really loved.
And that is all that matters.
And my god, we always had a good laugh.
Me, David & Liam.
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