Stars of David surrounded the landscape of my 3rd floor apartment in Jerusalem, and my 18 year old self could not be prouder of the country my grandparents helped settle. But the moment I knew I was home was the first Friday morning in Jerusalem when the city has officially shut down from the week and began the transition to Shabbat. Shopkeepers selling off their last burekas, the smell of Challah in the air, and families cleaning their house for guests remind everyone in the country the day of rest is coming. As the crowd of people walking to and from Shul dies down, the streets become completely empty, barren, and exactly as they should be. I will always remember walking down the Light Rail in the center of Jerusalem on a midnight visit to the Kotel, knowing I am living my ancestors dreams, and keeping my heritage and tradition to the best of my ability, something I can only do in my homeland.