Last year, before we decided to stay in Israel permanently, I found myself searching for the “right” cheesecake.

Don’t get me wrong, Israel has plenty of cheesecake. Bakeries full of it. If I wanted to make it myself there are entire refrigerated sections of grocery stores devoted to soft white cheeses I still don’t fully understand, despite living here for a year now. But somewhere between the tubs of גבינה לבנה (white cheese) and the endless varieties of not-quite-cream-cheese, I find myself nostalgically comparing everything to the familiar North American versions I grew up with.

This year, while standing in the store debating cheesecake ingredients, my second son called to tell me he had been called back for another round of reserve duty beginning next month.

For a brief moment, I felt my nervous system react before my mind fully processed his words. The tightening in my stomach came first. My shoulders tensed. Then the strange sensation of emotional déjà vu that so many Israelis can relate to. Thankfully I could feel the dissociation start to kick in. A fragile wall inside my brain. A numbing fog clouding my consciousness.

Just as my nervous system had finally begun feeling more settled, this was a rude awakening that I probably shouldn’t let it get to the point of feeling too settled.

Last year, our oldest son got married one week before Shavuot. At the time, he was still officially considered a lone soldier. His reserve duty deployment lasted for months, and he was granted only two weeks off: the week before the wedding and the week after, before returning to miluim again. Shavuot was the last day he and his new........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)