Today is the 20th of August; on the 25th, I will endure an early morning ride to the airport and depart on my journey to Israel. My palms are sweating and my heart hangs heavy in my chest, my head spinning in a cyclone of nerves and anticipation. I picture myself as a conquistador about to board some rickety wooden ship and sail off into the great unknown.

Great treasures and invaluable experiences surely await me on the other side of the ocean, but they currently lie beyond the horizon, obscured by vast distances and the impenetrable veil of time. I am spending my days preparing for my departure; a trip to the store here, a dinner with family there, goodbyes everywhere. “I’m doing a semester in Israel,” I explain once, twice, a hundred times. “The time will fly by,” I feel myself say, but in all honesty, I am not so sure it will. I have never been to Israel and I am excited to finally see the land that holds such an important place in the history and culture of my people and, indeed, the world. I am also eager to meet as many new people as I possibly can; however, I find myself anxious to leave my current friends at home. I remind myself that I will see them again and that I can have an amazing experience abroad while still maintaining my present friendships; the two are not mutually exclusive.

I take a deep breath and relax a little bit. A wave of excitement bursts through the receding nervousness and overtakes my thoughts. Suddenly, I can picture the wonderful opportunities and precious moments that lie ahead as if they were right in front of me: the chance to learn some Hebrew, to get to know the Jewish homeland, to discover Israeli history firsthand. Then, as quickly as they came, they fall out of my grasp yet again. I take another deep breath. Sunday speeds towards me like a train in a subway; I can only just make out the light approaching through the tunnel and the path ahead is concealed in darkness. However, I know in my heart that the next stop will be incredible.