That moment when you're looking out the airplane window and the Mediterranean becomes the sprawling metropolis of Tel Aviv.
That moment when you touch down at Ben Gurion and everyone on the airplane claps.
That moment when you come into the arrivals area and there are literally hundreds of people waiting with balloons. (Unfortunately, none for me)
That moment when you start up the hill for Jerusalem.
That moment when you enter Jerusalem and start whizzing by your old haunts, then the apartment you lived in for eleven months, then the bakery you once bought all your challah and pastries (this was once upon a time before my body started rejecting gluten) and finally, the corner where you once met your buddies to walk to dinner and coffee dates.
Driving aimlessly through the "old goat paths" of yore that became paved streets, searching for your destination you know is SOMEWHERE nearby but where?!
The energy/smell/taste/quiet/peace of Jerusalem right before Shabbat.
The sound of the "Shabbat siren" that rings throughout the city, telling us all the Sabbath has begun.
Ah, Israel. How I've missed thee.