Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Waddling to the Wall
Two nights ago my husband and I had the privilege of once again being in Jerusalem, if only for a short time. We`d been meaning to go for ages to pray at the Kotel, the Western Wall, before the baby comes. We had rented a car to attend a wedding, and while we were there, decided to go down to the Old City while we had the chance.
Already I can feel the memory crystallizing into one of those snow-globe memories that will always seem perfect no matter what. This journey towards the Kotel which we had made dozens of times in the past now seemed different, more sanctified and treasured. We strolled through the glamorous, open-air Mamilla Mall in the chilly night air, noting with pride the new additions since we had last been there. New restaurants and shops filled the dark gaps we remembered. People were huddled in the warm, enclosed cafes. After this endless summer, I welcomed the winter in my heart.
On we walked from golden glamour through the golden gates of the Old City, down past the Armenian Quarter into the narrow alleys of the Jewish Quarter. It started to drizzle and my husband and I held on to each other as we walked down the slippery Jerusalem stone yellow-brick-road. This normally irksome ordeal of being stuck out in the cold Jerusalem rain did not deter us. The Old City seemed eerily empty, somehow adding more allure to our quest. And then we were finally there. No tourists, no beggars, no lines.... Just us (and a few brave others) and the Wall. The great journey and the even greater destination. How grand it was to stand again in the place I had envisioned in my prayers all these long months...