I don’t want to write about war, I don’t want to write about antisemitism, Judaism, or Muslims. I don’t want to write about freedom or jail, love and hate, unity or rivalry.
I don’t want to write about politics and religion, of God and prayer, strength and power.
My brain has gone blank. There is too much information inside, too many images that are stuck from the past year that have nowhere to be placed, no file to be stored in; I would not know how to name it and where to place it in my head. Too many promises that were recorded in my storage that have no space to be saved – some were broken, some were deleted, many were misspelled or placed in the wrong file.
Memory space is running low, there’s too much still to download, and storage is running out.
I need a new head.
A fresh start.
A new year, with a clean file, making sure there are no bugs, viruses, or damages.
New promises on a clean page, a new folder yet to be named, new images in place of the ones from this past year have to be erased – or moved to the recycling bin just to make sure I can still have access to them when I need to refresh my brains and appreciate what I have until I learn from my mistakes – then I can delete them.
I want to change the picture of my screen saver, but it seems to be stuck and does not delete. It hurts so much to select a new one, I don’t know where to look from, in albums, memories, screenshots, gallery or portraits. Wherever I seem to look, they all give me the chills. I scroll backwards months – May, April, March… the more I scroll back, the more the central motor of my brain heats up, getting warmer and difficult to control.
So many new files on my desktop, don’t know where to store them anymore: victims, hostages, widows, orphans, soldiers, mothers, politicians, protesters, Right, Left…
Here it goes on turbo drive again, my brain computer making weird sounds as if it’s in overdrive.
Maybe I should get a new one and throw this one away.
A clean slate, a new beginning, a nice pink MacBook, brains in light pink that soothes the sight.
What I want in a new world
I WANT to open my eyes to a new world, with a new and improved American president. A new king of Israel who has never been heard of before and comes from another planet and believes in God first then himself, believes in Torah and mitzvot, and his charm and charisma will be known to all mankind.
I want all the bad people who hate us and want us to die to be gone, or forever so scared of our presence that they will literally bow their heads as we walk past them and will never dare to raise a finger against us.
I want all humanity to smile and cry tears of love as we introduce ourselves as “I am Jewish” and ask to be blessed by this incredible nation that saved the world from the force of darkness and terror.
I want all of us Jews to respect each other like Swiss people in a library: no noise, and cooperation for the benefit of all.
I want to walk to town and take the train number 1 that says “Beit Hamikdash” on a normal Tuesday and sit in the courtyard of the holy Temple and hear the kohanim sing their prayers and play their instruments, bring a sacrifice of thanks to Hashem, and then go to Mamilla and have coffee at Aroma. I want it to be the norm.
I want to see my grandparents and King David, I want to see Queen Esther and admire her beauty, and also Moshe Rabbeinu.
I want to celebrate with a big feast on a fast day that now has turned into a joyous day, and dance my way with Miriam the prophetess and her tambourines.
I want the whole Jerusalem to be one big holy Temple area, the whole Israel to be Jerusalem, and the whole world to be Israel, so when I’m going to Eilat I’m heading to the Maldives, and New York is Tel Aviv.
I am not kidding.
I WANT to be rich without having money, and poverty is not an option. I want us to be all the same, yet each one unique. I want to know the secrets of the world and answers to so many questions. I want to be wise yet fun, beautiful for my age with no lines or wrinkles ever, or maybe just not caring about it anymore.
I don’t want to suffer, and cry only of joy; I don’t want to be scared of anyone or anything except God, and fear nothing, not even my scale on a Sunday morning. I want love, passion, and butterflies in the stomach at every age – more or less like now, but less the drama.
I want rainy days, and cozy winters with good heating and no sirens. I want my children to never grow and grow fast at the same time. I want grandchildren and great-grandchildren and still be young.
Forever.
The phone rings to the tune of “Ani ma’amin benisim” (I believe in miracles), bringing me back to reality. I check my calendar and realize in two weeks it’s my daughter’s birthday – she would have been 14.
I would love to go out and buy her a gift. What would she like?
I should make our favorite cake, tiramisu, and we should celebrate, just us, for her.
With her, down here, in this world.
That is what I want.
For real.
Amen.
The writer, originally from Italy, lives in Jerusalem with her husband and four children. She heads HadassahChen Productions and hosts a weekly talk show on Arutz Sheva.