Going back to Tel Aviv after two years turned out to be a combination of sweet and sour experience. Even after a few days of finding myself in this well know but new reality I cannot get the sadly familiar feeling of melancholy out of my system.
Big happiness of being back and a huge flashback of overwhelming memories made some real mess in my relatively organized head. By saying organized I don’t mean that I have everything figured out (quite contrary), but rather that I know where the certain things are located and how to find them. I also remember which of those stuff (and why) got closed in special boxes that are never meant to be open. That’s for my own and everyone’s else sake.
What I didn’t remember was that when leaving this country in a rush I swept the floor of my heart for the last time and because I didn’t know what to do with the stuff that I couldn’t let go of but at the same time I knew I should, I decided (like many other people) to sweep them under the carpet. Excellent idea, I know. Just like closing your eyes and by not being able to see anyone hoping, that they can’t see you either.
All the carpet stories finish the same – the moment comes and you have to deal with all the rubbish you’ve put there during all those years. For me, there is quite of splitting up with Tel Aviv trash that after giving me an uncomfortable welcome on the airport decided to continue to lightly pollute my surrounding.
I expected this trip to be somehow emotional but I hoped to be able to handle some stuff a bit better. I booked the tickets spontaneously and found myself on the plane four days after. At the moment of landing on Ben Gurion airport in Tel Aviv I already got mixed feeling and felt slight confusion. It couldn’t of course overshadow the enormous cloud of happiness that was spreading above my head but it was still somewhere on the back of my head bothering me.
After all, it’s been few years. My friends all moved on, so many things changed, but really deep inside they are exactly the same as when I left them. They smile the same and they laugh the same and the most important, they care the same. Funny thing that instead of celebrating their presence now I got a bit upset remembering all those moments when I really needed them and they were not there. Especially during my stay on Gran Canaria which was an amazing, but unbearably lonely place.
So the problem of course is not them, but me. I don’t feel the same as when I left. Obviously, we all evolve in some direction and we constantly change, but our core always stays the same. However, right now I feel that somehow those two years got so deep into me that they’ve managed to corrode some parts of the core. And I don’t like it. To be honest, I believe that some other parts that were quite rusty or underdeveloped got a nice cleaning and an upgrade, but I’m not happy at all about some of the missing elements that flown away probably thanks to New Zealand’s crazy wind, or maybe got lost in the depths of the Atlantic Ocean.
There is someone out there that I would really like to share this story with. Much more detailed version of this story. Actually I’ve even tried, but I don’t know how. Because one of the things I’ve lost during those two years was a capacity to share without fear and express myself through writing, photography, singing, dancing, hula hooping or simply laughing.
I really want those qualities to be back. I need them to feel me again.
PS. So good that hugs of some people haven’t change either.