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Dear Yarden, It’s 4:30 am. I wake up thinking about you. That must sound crazy, but I’m certain I’m not the only one. One of the things that I fell in love with since the aftermath
(21 days after being called in to Gaza)
To anyone who is even considering the option of ever making the move to Israel, to those who have never fathomed such a crazy proposal, to those who are seriously weighing the pros and have started packing their bags, and to those who know of someone who fits into any of these categories:
Erev Yom Ha’atzmaut (Eve of Israel Independence Day)
Usually we’d be celebrating after commemorating and remembering those who fell on Yom HaZikaron (Israel’s Day of Remembrance for IDF soldiers) the day before.
A new dimension of pain, grief, intimacy and even regret fills the atmosphere of Israel this year.
(After five weeks in Gaza, on the way home for a short break) Tzahal is doing a fantastic job in the war so far. Many terrorist facilities have been neutralised, and we are edging ever closer,
At the corner of Kaplan and Ibn Gvirol,
you stand next to me waiting to cross,
a tower of olive with dust on your boots,
and I barely subdue a primal urge
to wrap my arms around you.
I had that student. I remember his first time in my class vividly. He chose a chair, positioning himself with his back to the window to shield his eyes from the sun. As he settled in, he seemed to claim the space as his own. With piercing, attentive eyes, his demeanour challenged me with a ‘Well? Show me what you’ve got.’
Whoops! In that very instant, I sensed he would challenge me every second of our 90-minute lesson.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” I suggested.
More empty chairs than not
We’ll sit at the table alone
But how can we bemoan our fate
When our children could still come home
Through smoky dawn,
a soldier stands,
in Israel’s land.
Courage demands,
he treads on ashes,
October’s ashes,
the fallen’s remains.
I once had a dream that disturbed me for years, and then I forgot about it. Until now.
The dream concerned my youngest child, my Gadi, who was five at the time. In the dream, I took him to the kindergarten down the block from our home, as I did every morning. We played our usual counting and color-spotting games as we walked, swinging our joined hands. When we reached the kindergarten, I pressed the entrance buzzer, and then, as happens in dreams, I suddenly found myself elsewhere.