In the Air of the Night

Do you ever get that feeling where a certain breeze or smell of summer or something totally intangible suddenly reminds of you of this completely different place, like a strange sort of deja vu or something? I only get it with two places, and maybe it's just because I miss them both more than words can say, but I'll be in some room with some smell or some feeling and I am standing in Camp Morasha or somewhere in Israel, and it is the worst pain of homesickness.
Before I started dating Yoni, I asked him my big three dealbreaker questions: 1) Do you care if your wife wears only skirts? 2) Do you care if your wife covers her hair? and 3) Do you plan to make Aliya? Thinking about it now, I don't think that they were the wrong questions - I live in jeans and since I don't believe in wearing fake hair that looks better than my real hair nor do I want to have all my hair in a scarf all the time, the first two really would've been deal breakers. (And this of course is ignoring the fact that I would not like to be forced to change religiously for my husband; Unfortunately, he seems to have gotten under my skin anyway - what's with my sudden not wearing new clothes during the Omer or the Three Weeks??)
But now, I'm starting to feel like question number three shouldn't have been so cut-and-dried. I am dying to go back to Israel. I haven't been there since I was actually in Brovender's (Midreshet Lindenbaum, sorry), and just knowing that there's new furniture in my apartment in Netanya that I haven't seen, or that there are new restaurants at Emek Refa'im, or that I have not had a chicken salad from Olive or square pizza from Pizza Metre or discovered a new bar off Ben Yehuda makes me so, so sad.
Just ask Yoni, who I am pushing so hard to consider Penn Law's semester abroad in Tel Aviv. This is currently my biggest battle, and my greatest aspiration - just one more semester living in Israel. And I don't even particularly like Tel Aviv, but if it means just being in the country again, I'll do it, I'll do anything. (Of course, in my head, we live in my apartment in Netanya and Yoni commutes, but he doesn't seem so into this plan.)
And this from the girl who wouldn't have married the guy who wanted to make Aliya? Ah Israel and thy magical spells; How I've missed thee.
So basically, if you see Yoni, talk up the whole Tel Aviv thing. Thanks.