An Ode

Alas my time here is near to the end,
And ‘tho I have had a wonderful time, I will not pretend
That I am not very excited to move to the west end.

The friends I have made here and the people I’ve met have all been so great,
The adventures, the experiences – school, the kibbutz, the travel- all were first rate,
But to pack my suitcase and move to my new home? Its getting hard to wait.

“Why?” You ask, “don’t you love us, don’t you want to stay?
Don’t you love the swimming pool and the freedom of the kids to run around and play?
Its so friendly, so communal, so welcoming on the kibbutz – that is our way.”

Yes, the family, the friends, the ease of life, I love you so,
I love the atmosphere, the camaraderie, the communal-type living – even if it is a little slow,
But my new home awaits, and I really must go.

I will miss the childcare where all the kids go every day,
I will miss the dining hall (although not the register where we pay),
I will even miss the cow shed, where the smell is more than hay!

(Ah yes the dining hall, where we all go to eat,
Were dinner is make your own salad and they add way too much salt to the meat,
and the pricing scheme is really screwy – you pay – individually – for every radish on the balance sheet!)

I will miss the beautiful landscape, the mountains that surround,
The acacias and the wadis and vistas that astound,
Every day is full of sunshine and hiking trails abound.

I will miss ten o’clock meal , and four o’ clock meal, and all of safta’s cakes,
I will miss lazy Friday afternoons, when of the computer the children do partake,
I will miss our friends – old and new – and our family. For all of these things my heart will ache.

But the place we live right now, it is so very small,
Just two bedrooms, a living space, and do you call that a kitchen? Not at all!
And I’m sure what to think about the cracks that have appeared in every single wall.

Sharing my tiny bedroom with my husband’s home office has NOT been a treat,
I hate the cramped entryway, and the ants that I can’t seem to beat,
And I wish we had some insulation to help keep out the heat!

Every whisper in the living room, it sounds like a roar!
The echo on the cement is so loud you hear us outside the door!
Add to all the echo, the air conditioner, the kettle and the radio, and I can’t take any more!

Most of the time the water runs just fine, although about once a month it does not,
And did you want cold water? Sorry, in the summer all we have is hot.
The electricity… well its pretty good. I guess that’s something that we’ve got!

Now, I’ve learned so much about Israeli culture during my time,
Most of it is truly great, and I will miss it just fine,
But there is one thing Israelis really must learn: my dear, its called a LINE.

How many times have I been waiting, patiently in the store or dining hall,
And someone stepped in front of me – cut me in line – and thought nothing of it at all.
Waiting at the bus stop, the airport, or the tramcar at Masada, they push you out of the way, and almost cause a brawl!

Its a simple lesson, that everyone must learn,
You line up in order and each one gets a turn!
Then your business get completed, and your anger will not burn!

I’ve heard that the country where I will live, they take it to extreme,
Lining up is more important than you could ever dream,
and I guess I can understand how that could make me scream.

But, I’ll take my chances with order and with lines,
And with cold, wet weather – they say its sunny sometimes.
And, of course, an abode with much larger confines!

My new dwelling, away up in the north, it has amenities galore,
Insulation, big bright windows, constant water and a mail slot in your door,
But the best thing it has: is a toilet on every floor!

Yes, its, true, the grass is always greener, in this I do trust,
And I am sure we’ll discover many things which will make our old home seem a plus,
But best of all, when we move north our husband and aba will once again live with us!

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