Monica Rozenfeld moves to Brooklyn with two roommates — a Catholic and an observant Jew — and they each seek understanding of what it means to be religious.
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In case you didn’t catch it in my last post, I was in California visiting some friends from New York. What a long trip it was. There are two things I learned from my ten (10!!!) days away from Brooklyn:
1. Just because you go on a trip doesn’t make it a vacation.
2. I love my Jewish community where I live.
When I left NY for a spontaneous trip to Cali, friends were shocked, jealous, excited and expecting me to come back with a tan. No such tan happened.
I loved the opportunity to spend time with my gracious friends and hosts who took care of me, but I found myself really missing Brooklyn. I missed being able to walk everywhere. I missed the cafes and bars lining the avenues. I missed Prospect Park on sunny days. I even missed seeing the mothers pushing strollers down the street.
But what I also found myself missing was my Jewish community that has welcomed me from Day 1. I felt uneasy being away from my synagogue for two shabbats and couldn’t wait for the calming joy I knew I’d feel my first shabbat back in New York.
Life has a funny way of surprising us. Today while walking in my neighborhood on this chilly day, it hit me like a ton of bricks – I live here and, for right now, I don’t want to be anywhere else.