Day 68: Jerusalem

I wish I could've seen Jerusalem. It seems almost pathetic to know so much about a place, and never have seen it. I wish I knew what all those places looked like and smelled like and felt like. I wish I had those memories. I wish I had gone when I had the chance. I imagine a certain way the air would look from the Mount of Olives, looking down at the temple mount. I wonder how it would feel to sit under an olive tree with an open notebook in my lap, and close my eyes and listen to the leaves. I wonder how it would feel, and how my heart would feel, to lean my head against a stone in a garden. I wish I could have my ears filled with the calls of muezzins and their call to prayer. To feel grit in my teeth and have sunbrowned skin from sitting and listening to lectures outside. I wish I had the chance to listen to Yiddish and Hebrew and be able to sort out a few phrases. To study hard and learn new things and see new things. And to be young again, truly young. With nothing to worry about but myself, and a sense that even the problems of this place could be solved. But I chose a different road, or--rather... the world chose a different road for me.

I wish things were different.