A tiny alleyway in Old Ramat Aviv.
It had been three months since we made “Aliya”, and I knew almost no Hebrew at all, and knew almost no one in the neighborhood. Every day I would take my son D to kindergarten and then pick him up at the end of the day. Every day B’s mom (a little friend my son had made) would sit next to me and chat with me in English. One day, when I was feeling especially alone and like a frog in a foreign pond, she asked me: “Hi D’s mom, how are you?” I told her it is very hard to be an immigrant. She, in a totally Israeli gesture, made a joke in order to change the subject to something lighter, since she didn’t really expect me to tell her how I was… we chatted about nothing for a while longer. The kids finally came out from the kindergarten and before saying goodbye she looked me in the eye and said to me: “Do you have a name, other than D’s mom (Ima shel D)?” We both laughed and said our names and a friendship began, which lasted more than 20 years.