How do you say goodbye?

Luckily shalom means both hello and goodbye in Hebrew because it’s a week of both departing and returning. Today we discussed the “reverse culture-shock” that comes with going home, and it finally sunk in that this amazing semester is over. I feel so fortunate to have lived and learned here at Kibbutz Lotan, and as I sorted through my several thousand photos from the past four months in preparation for our closing ceremony I hardly recognized myself from August – I am not the same person that I was in August. Packing my suitcase felt almost silly because the few souvenirs I got are not even close to a reflection of the experiences I’ve had, people I’ve met, and knowledge I’ve gained during the program. While for me this is not a goodbye, more a lehitraot (until we meet again) for Israel, since I’ll be coming back in two weeks, the weight of leaving the Kibbutz is overwhelming.

I won’t be able to describe, or even know where to start explaining the realities of the last four months might be the scariest part of this transition. My memories will stay with me forever, but what are memories if you can’t share them? So...now...I go home and people ask, “How was it?” “What was it like?” “What was your favorite part?” Am I supposed to summarize four months of my life in a few sentences? Forty seconds and then the conversation changes direction? Here are a few of my favorite memories:

• At Qasr a Sir, a bedouin community in near Dimona, we stayed up late into the night hearing booms in the distance, cluelessly loading news sites to figure out what is going on even though we are both literally and metaphorically powerless in the electricity-less village considered “open space” by Israel’s Iron Dome defense system.
• Waking up the first morning, after our late night arrival, and exploring the Bustan neighborhood for the first time in the light.
• Buying 10 cucumbers, 6 tomatoes, 2 onions, 4 red peppers and a pomegranate in the Mahane Yehuda Shuk (Jerusalem) for around 20 shekels ($5 US) and making an epic salad in the apartment every single night for two weeks.

The most important thing I learned this semester is to be present. That doesn’t mean to take everything you’re given and accept it; it means to fully experience every moment. Ask questions. Develop an opinion. Challenge yourself. Learn something new. Be spontaneous, reflect on and value every mistake and every success.