Shalzed liked soft serve ice cream so much that I decided to take him to a new frozen yogurt place that opened near my apartment. While I was explaining the toppings, a friend from the day school called.

I decided to answer because he was leaving for Israel early the next morning, and it turned out he needed to borrow a suitcase. “For all the trouble you’re going to, they should let you vote five or ten times,” I told him before hanging up.

“Five or ten times?” Shalzed asked, looking perplexed.

“Just kidding,” I said. “It’s a fellow named Avi. He lives in Israel, but he’s here for a year while his wife gets her doctorate. They are flying back to vote.”

Shalzed scrunched his forehead, and I was afraid he might drop his bowl of frozen yogurt. “They’re concerned,” I said. “A lot of people believe this election is crucial for Israel’s future.” I moved closer to the toppings bar and reached for the chocolate chips, guiding Shalzed’s arm over the bar as well.

“But what about Israeli citizens who can’t fly back?” he asked. “How do they vote?”

I shrugged. “Israel doesn’t have absentee ballots. So if you aren’t in the country, you can’t.”

Shalzed put his frozen yogurt down and stroked his chin. “I don’t understand,” he said. “What if Israel decided to have only one polling place, let’s say in the center of Tel Aviv. That would save money and be more secure than having them all over. So whether you live in Tel Aviv, Metula, or Eilat, you have to get yourself to Tel Aviv in order to vote. Would that be alright?”

A pair of teenage girls holding full frozen yogurt cups gave Shalzed funny looks. I wasn’t sure if it was because of his appearance, or maybe they also heard what he had just said. “Excuse me,” one of them said in a giggly voice, pointing towards the toppings.

I motioned Shalzed to step back and let the girls go ahead of us. “Outside the country isn’t the same,” I told Shalzed.

“Well, if countries have to put up polling places in each city, or even each neighborhood, in order to enable people to vote, how can Israel require citizens who happen to be abroad to take a long plane trip?”

I had never thought of it like that. “When people choose to live outside of the country, they are less affected by the election. So doesn’t it seem reasonable if it’s harder for them to vote?” I asked.

“But you said your friend is only here for a year,” Shalzed replied.

That was true. It really didn’t seem fair for them to be unable to vote. “But many Israelis are actually living abroad,” I replied.

The girl put one spoonful of nuts on her frozen yogurt and went to the register, while the other said loudly that none of the toppings were healthy and she was ready to pay. I took the scoop for the chocolate chips.

“If Israeli citizens living abroad are still eligible to vote, shouldn’t Israel have to do its best to make it feasible for them to do so?” Shalzed asked.

I sprinkled a few chips on my frozen yogurt. “I think you’ll like these,” I said to Shalzed.

He hesitated. “Is it true?” he whispered.

“Is what true?” I asked.

“That these nutritional substances are not beneficial for humans’ bodies?”

I laughed. “Sometimes humans eat things that aren’t perfectly nutritious,” I told him.

“Lucky I’m not human,” he said, helping himself to a large spoonful of chips.

To consider: Can governments restrict the voting rights of citizens living abroad? And if those citizens retain the right to vote, how far must governments go to make it possible for them to exercise that right?