If it wasn’t for the news and my Facebook feed, I wouldn’t know any better. Sure, I might be wondering why my neighborhood in Israel has suddenly turned into the flight path for the airport, but I probably wouldn’t be worrying too much.
You see, my life is wonderful. I have a great husband and five amazing kids. Everyone is healthy. My husband and I have jobs. We have a beautiful house. My eldest son recently got engaged and we are in the midst of planning a wedding. My day to day, although quite filled and hectic, is quite normal. No sign of the tension, no blaring sirens signaling a 15-second warning to run to a bomb shelter. Nothing at all.
That is unless you look at people’s faces and body language.
Everyone is tense and uptight, because like me, they know from the news that everything around us is going to hell in a hand basket. We are all anxious and worried and it doesn’t matter whether you live in affected areas or not. Or whether, like me, you have one son in the army and another at risk of being called up for reserve duty.
A few weeks ago, I would never have imagined that the events of the past week would have escalated to the cusp of war that we are precariously teetering towards: the evil murders, the massive riots, and the incessant barrage of rockets aimed at Israel that have even reached as far as Tel Aviv.
Madness, and there is no visible end in site.
I see the pictures of people saying goodbye to their loved ones who have been called up to reserve duty. I see the pictures of the empty beaches and of the kids who are stuck in bomb shelters instead of enjoying their so-desperately-needed summer vacation. I think of my son’s close friends who are getting married this week and I pray that there will be no need to run to bomb shelters during the ceremony. And of course there is the fear of rockets landing and the possibility of potential casualties to people and to property.
I am hovering precariously on the edge between functioning and non-functioning. Flitting from one to another depending on the amount of denial I employ at any given moment.
And I wonder how people who are living under the constant barrage of rockets are managing to cope at all. I cry on the inside when my kids are around, and I cry openly when I am alone. I can’t bear the thought of any more hurt and pain.
I wish so hard that I could even visualize peace.
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