It seems to me that my parents always pushed me. Sometimes even faster than I woke up. The motto at home, covertly, was - independence, responsibility. My decision, which is surprising for them, to immigrate to Israel and study, to travel overseas (then there was no email contact and there was only a phone call twice all year, etc.), and another culture, and something else that smells religious - and what is it ?! And Zionism - what does all this have to do with ...?
They accepted and facilitated my decision, because as mentioned they advocated independence, but I remember well the picture of the farewell, they stood together and waved goodbye to my owner of the bus leading to the plane and I cry crying, because the farewell itself, and I thought how hard it must be for them to say goodbye to me (!! )
I felt that they, on the one hand, were sending me to my fate that I had chosen, but which to me was completely unknown, and on the other hand, as the youngest in the house, I left leaving them "childless" and emptied, but they really did not burden me, only I imagined myself. On the contrary - all year long I got the impression from them that they could now break free from the "housekeeping cables", almost every day they ate at a restaurant, my mother went to study painting, planned trips and did not "die" at all from not being me.
