Does this photo of my 7 year old “driving” an abandoned bus deserted in the industrial park on the kibbutz we live on instill feelings of longing in you?
Envy?
Or pure, unadulterated fear?
It’s rusty, that bus. And filled with trash. And likely painted with lead paint.
Maybe you just think I’m crazy. I know a lot of my friends and family back in the U.S. do. In fact, 35 year old me is looking at 39 year old me with a little bit of loathing and disgust; and plenty of confusion.
Today, on the Times of Israel, I blogged about what parenting (or really, underparenting) on a kibbutz in Israel looks like for me.
And how the dirty, sometimes dangerous life, has surprisingly created space for me in which I can breathe.
