Bed of Feathers

Even into a warm bed of soft feathers, landing takes time.
My feet are on the ground, getting used to how it feels under my toes.
It feels good, yet so different from how the ground felt under them just last week.

California is so deliciously familiar, so comforting.
The sun is shining and warm, apparently after 2 weeks of intense rainstorms I am thankful we missed.
Everything is the same, as if seven and a half months haven't gone by without us.
I love it here - it is my home more than any place in the world, and always will be.

Our arrival went smoothly.
The Lufthansa agent at the Tel Aviv airport didn't even weigh our extremely overweight luggage when we checked in, saving us $300.
Our stroller, which had been sitting in the open lobby of our Jerusalem building all fall/winter and serving as a bed and toilet for the neighborhood stray cats, reeked of cat pee so we checked it in all the way to San Francisco.
When we arrived at Dave's aunt and uncle's in Marin, Auntie Marty figured out how to detach the fabric from the stroller frame and stuck the whole thing in the washing machine.
Within an hour, it was good as new, cat pee smell a faint memory of every time we entered our building for the past several months.

Funny things like that to remind us of where we just came from.
Yet I have to admit that Jerusalem already feels like a strange dream.
I think if we'd left Jerusalem and come to somewhere new, I might feel more connected to that place that was our home these last 7+ months.
But since we've landed in such familiar territory, where we are surrounded, it's almost hard to believe I was even in Jerusalem just a few days ago.
It's a really strange sensation.
And yet I smile when I think of the sweet friends I now have who are still there - you know who you are.
Of the incredible sendoff we received, the healing love, the blessings.
The team that came over to clean our apartment the day before we left.
Everything everyone did to help us there.

And now it continues here.
We are so held.
And our angels continue to watch over us.
We have a wonderful car to borrow from some very special friends.
Our soon-to-be home in the Sunset is already almost entirely furnished by an amazing community of friends, many of whom we don't even know personally, but who are praying and caring for us.
Taxes have been prepared and will be ready on Tuesday.
They are ready to welcome Dave back at the gym where he used to work, and will help him get new clients.
Tuesday morning we head to the MediCal office to get me medical insurance - hopefully on the spot.

Then I can finally start seeing some doctors and getting some answers to the many questions, the many unknowns.
So far what I know comes from reading Internet articles and talking to a few doctors in Israel.
But there is so much more to understand, and honestly I haven't even a tiny inkling of an idea what is ahead, because there seem to be so many possibilities.
I can't plan beyond Tuesday.
I, the queen of planning, who has made a living being a planner for a dozen years, can't plan.
Surrendering to the unknown... that is the ultimate act of faith.
And right now, I don't really have much choice but to surrender and trust that something much bigger than me is holding all four of us and guiding the way, even if we can't see the road yet.

It's good to be back in California.
It's good to drive around San Francisco and know every corner and every turn.
It's good to be close to my sister and my dad and our families and friends.
It's good to be HOME, to feel less alone.