So, of course, he took out his camera and photographed the beginning of the latest snow storm.
He sent us a bunch of photos of the front of the house in snow, and our backyard in snow. He sent a video clip of the snow falling on our swimming pool and gazebo.
The flakes were as big as feathers. I guess I have been in Israel a long time, B"H, because I don't remember such big snow flakes, and I don't remember such fluffy snow.
Suddenly as I was flipping through my brother's pictures, tears gathered in my eyes. My old home, the house of my youth. My mind is flooded with memories of snows and snowball fights, of shoveling and shivering, of snow plows and snow piles.
I don't miss America per se. I don't miss the home of my married life (no offense, husband dear). I don't miss my old job. Of course, I miss my family and friends. But watching the fat pieces of frozen lace fall on my backyard made me homesick for my old home.
I love my home in Israel, and my life here. But suddenly I miss my blue and gold room, my cozy den, and our Shabbat table that was so overflowing with family and friends.
And I miss my mother. May Hashem bless her with good health, happiness, nachas from her family, and prosperity always.
Cold winter. Warm memories.