Jack's Girls

When the sun sets in Tel Aviv, of course it's to the west, but from the beach in Tel Aviv, it's really to the west, over the Mediterranean - due west - directly west - over the blue crashing waves where the Israeli surfer boys resemble the sun-bleached boys of Point Loma and Pacific Beach in Southern California.  Sitting on a rock, Jack thought about SoCal and the similarities with the beaches he loved there.  His own 'land-of-milk-and-honey'.
  
But this evening, Jack was in Jaffa, watching the sunset -with his girls.  Keeping a low-profile wasn't easy for Jack with his girls nearby, always drawing a stare and a whisper from the 'men' on the streets.  Even other women were mesmerized by the three.  One was enough to catch the wondering eye's of locals and tourists.  But with the three of them together, there was no hope.   
 
It started getting dark, as they all walked north toward the city.  There, up ahead - "that's it", he said - "let's warm up, get a drink".   Jack ushered his girls into 'Gordo's', a beachfront café.  As if he were protecting special agents, he escorted his own 'Charlie's Angels" into the café and commanded a table in the front, with a view of the ocean, the beach, the rising moon over Tel Aviv.
     
"Happy Sylvester!", a waitress shouted from behind the bar.  Puzzled, not knowing what she meant, Jack ignored her and thought about the day, and his girls, and Israel.  

Finally, Jack relaxed.  It had ended.  It was over, the day was coming to an end.  This year was over.  "New beginnings", Jack said softly, to himself, as the girls talked freely and giggled.

It was New Years Eve.   Everything Jack needed, everything he wanted, was sitting at this table, in this room, on this beach, in Tel Aviv.