If my life were the series "24", I'd have 24 more weeks in Israel instead of a mere 24 hours. But I'd also be trying to save the world from overly complicated international terrorist plots. So I am grateful for that part of my life not being "24."
Still, in this summer's waning Jerusalem moments, the clock keeps ticking, counting down my final moments before boarding the shuttle back to my real life in another city and another country, both metaphorically and literally. I feel like every second spent in these last hours is a waste. Every second I spend here at this computer instead of on the streets. Every moment I spend on the phone saying goodbye to everyone. Every moment in a cafe or a shop or walking. Every note piped in through my earphones instead of listening to the rhythms of a pulsing city. Every second spent in conversation with someone about anything, and every second spent NOT in conversation with someone about anything.
Trying to catch up with the things I've missed is impossible...the scale is too intense. Knowing that however much I catch, there's infinitely more I'm missing. Tapping into this energy has been amazing, and there's no chance of recapturing its special, frozen-in-time-and-space, quality. I have to give it up now, to return, to fall back into a life that I once knew and can't imagine resuming.
Wringing out my heart, hanging it to dry, hoping everything will go back to normal and yet hoping it won't.
Back to life, back to reality. Back to my eventual here and now. But first, 24 more.