Special

18 I was, young, green and unhappy. That's when I left the Netherlands and fled to Isreal.

The first two weeks were unforgettable. I stayed with a wonderful family in Ramat Gan, a suburb of Tel Aviv. The overwhelming sweetness and warmth of their love was great, but it made me feel misserable. Apparently I'd been missing something. And how could I ever return what they gave to me?

I left Ramat Gan and went to a kibbutz in the north. During a year I had a great time, working, falling in love, trying some stupid things, running around. And whenever I needed someone, they were there.

That was 26 years ago. Only in the beginning of the nineties I've been back for a lovely, short reunion. Now I suddenly got this phonecall from Ramat Gan. In september they will be here. To stay with me, talk about everything and to feel that an act of love is stronger than words can ever express. This time, I'll try.