When a military action has a name, you know it’s serious.
I was in Be’er Sheva on my way to a poetry meeting, when I heard that Israeli Defense Forces had hit Jabari, head of the Hamas. The people on the bus froze at the news – there was silence and then there was a flurry of cellphone calls.
I got off the bus and my friend, Miriam, called me to find out where I was, what i was thinking and if there’d be a meeting. I started to feel anxiety. Should I be turning around, getting on a bus for home? Her question got my questions zooming. But no, surely it wasn’t worth not attending a precious poetry meeting which was therapy in itself – meeting other poets, focusing on their work and commenting, receiving attention and comments on my own. All so nourishing.
but as we made plans to meet and travel together, I started surveying friends back home in Otef Aza. What was going on? Were there Red Alerts? Had there been rocket attacks? What was the prognosis. Was it wise to stay in Be’er Sheva. The first responses were to go ahead, follow my plan. Then the response of Adele, a suggestion that coming home would be smart, infiltrated my resolve. I let it simmer and then made a decision. I got on a bus, headed back west.
Home with help from my son and his girlfriend, I enjoyed a delicious dinner interrupted by constant text messages, and booms and lo and behold…Booms were headed at Be’er Sheva. I’d made a wise choice to leave the city before their arrival.
today? I’m glued to facebook, for updates from people in the area, the News on TV and ynet.co.il for constant news flashes.
I did my usual routine, up, coffee, exercise, meditation but nothing is normal. We’ve been told to stay in our safe rooms, and although it’s an absolutely gorgeous day outside, I’ve not yet enjoyed the sun.
I will. I’ll re-claim my old self any moment now!