Happy 21st BD ABBY
NAHARIYA, ISRAEL. Monday. 9.9.2024
At 23:00 last night, the young boys-almost-men, yet again, gathered at the Synagogue. They gathered every night except Friday, since the first night of Elul.
The ceiling fan stopped its cycle, and a light breeze entered the window.
I picked up the phone and quietly walked between the rooms of the flat. I listened to the voices full of testosterone, rising louder and louder entering our bedroom. Debating whether I should make a complaining call, I waited. Airplanes continued to fly overhead while booming war noises floated south from the far Northern border.
When the sounds of hurried feet gathered at the front doors of the building across from us and the talks became hushed voices, I re-attached the cellular to the electric wire and placed it back on the night table. A singing harmony filled the air around the tall trees of the park.
I returned to bed listening to the night.
Soon, Shofars sounded behind the closed doors, calling each other with long and short blows, making their own special music. Their notes entered our flat swirling like circles of leaves with the light wind. Shouts of “Hallelujah” filled the air.
Ambulances and police vehicles sounded across the highway, while sirens alarming sleeping bodies to wake up and find safer shelters grow louder at night. At 2:20, as the males cleared the area, the call of the jackals filled the air.
Misty jumped on the bed itching for a pat and a cuddle.
Patting the cat I reached for the water bottle at the foot of the bed listening to the peaceful snore of my man.
It is 3:35. News items from Syria of Hamas fatalities jump on my screen as well as a report of a meeting of generals discussing strategies of war.
I am not the only one awake tonight.
No comments:
Post a Comment