An Aliyah Journal

I am returning to Sydney to celebrate my parent's fiftieth wedding anniversary, but Meira didn't know that. All she knew was that I had lost my Israeli travel document (a temporary passport issued to Orlim who leave the country before one year). She looked down at me disapprovingly through the glass screen between us and waited for an explanation I did not have. The implication was clear. Yes, of course I understand that in a country like Israel, where security is of primary concern, the loss of such a document is no small matter. I did not need Meira to tell me that, though she obviously felt that I did. "It's very expensive to replace" she said, her eyes awaiting some kind of grovelling apology for my very existence. "It's 500 shekels". "Wow, that is expensive" I said adding to my growing debt-guilt, "but what can I do, I've booked my ticket, I'm leaving in three weeks." "Go over there and get a letter from that g

I'm not a control freak, really I'm not. I'm really a pretty laid back person, ask anyone - except my husband. OK, maybe I am a bit of a control freak but for very good reason. I want everything to be done the way I want it to be done. That doesn't mean I'm a perfectionist though, I just like things to be ordered, not necessarily spotless, just tidy. I'm certainly not that mom scrubbing the kitchen cupboards down with meths; I'm that mom drinking it! Our recent immigration has presented new challenges but money is not one of them. Money is an old challenge, one that's been part of our dynamic since I rejected the idea of contraception and married a man sorely lacking in a MBA, and now to add fuel to the fire we are trying a role reversal. I did the first twenty years and now it's his turn. The playing field is pretty even because as things stand I'm not earning any money, but my housewife skills even back then, when we first started out were not