When Milestones Meet Sandcastles and Toddler Magic.
Living in Holland meant that Thom missed out on many of the big family celebrations I grew up with.
My family (Vered’s) is huge, loud, and loves any excuse to throw a party.
Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays—you name it, we celebrated it, always with enough singing and dancing to rival any West End or Broadway production.
But flying to Israel for every event was just not in the budget during those early years.
I had to come to terms with the fact that Thom wouldn’t have the same tight-knit family experience I did—grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins constantly around, creating memories together. Sure, my sister Keren also lived in Holland at the time, but she was on the opposite side of the country, juggling a full-time job while working on her MA and PhD.
Meanwhile, I was busy managing the operations of Yoni’s new company, Open Circles, while also working full-time.
Neither of us had the time (or energy) for frequent meet-ups, and squeezing in family time felt like trying to fit a giraffe into a Mini Cooper.
Then, my parents’ 40th anniversary came around, and they were determined to have the whole family together—kids, grandkids, and all.
I could feel my wallet shrinking at the thought of plane tickets, but my parents weren’t having any of it.
They called to say, “We’re buying the tickets. No arguments.” It was such a relief I almost cried.
They even booked us a long weekend at a resort on the shores of the Red Sea—a place called Ras Burka, where we used to vacation as kids.
Back then, it was part of Israel, but now it’s in Egypt.
Either way, it held a treasure trove of memories, and the thought of going back with the whole family was like a dream come true.
And just like that, we were off on a four-day family reunion under the sun.
Thom was only two years old at the time—an age where everything was an adventure and every grain of sand was a treasure.
Her little feet wobbled across the beach as she squealed with delight, running away from the waves as they lapped at the shore, daring to go on boats, and joining other water sports that the resort had to offer. But most of all her interest was in playing with Femke’s (Keren’s partner) sunglasses and trying them on.
She had no idea what all the fuss was about or why so many people were there just to celebrate, but she was thrilled by all the attention and the endless space to explore.
The whole family pitched in to keep her entertained. My sisters, Yael and Keren, took turns playing with her, while her uncles would always volunteer to carry her on their shoulders. Her cousin Or would join her in playing in the sand or just running around the place.
My dad, ever the playful grandpa, would scoop her up and swing her around until her giggles filled the air.
In the evenings, after Thom was finally worn out from her day of adventure and drifted off to sleep, the rest of us gathered around to play cards and tell stories.
My parents soaked up every minute of having their kids and grandkids around, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing—wondering how different life might have been if we lived closer and had more of these moments.
It was one of those trips where time seemed to slow down, laughter and love filled the air, and I couldn’t help but feel grateful.
Watching my parents still so in love after 40 years made me think about the future—about Yoni and me growing old together, surrounded by family.
It was a bittersweet realization that life doesn’t always turn out how you imagine, but sometimes, it surprises you with these beautiful, fleeting moments of pure joy.
I left that weekend with sand in my shoes, a heart full of memories, and a deep sense of gratitude for the family I had—and for Thom, who got to experience a little slice of the big, loving family I grew up with.
