It is a beautiful day here in Jerusalem. The high today is only 78 (82 heat index). The sky is an amazing azure blue, there are the occasional stray clouds, and there is a glorious breeze. It is lovely enough to be able forget about the conflict. Almost.
I made myself leave the house yesterday. We needed groceries, but I dreaded driving. If the sirens sound, I have 90 seconds to get the boys and myself to a shelter. 90 seconds to stop the vehicle, unbuckle Liam, grab Sam still in his carseat, and run to whatever I can find nearby. That constant worry and vigilance takes it toll, so I rarely drive.
I made myself leave the house today. It's not fair to Liam to stay cooped up all day just because I know I can get everyone into our safe room in 90 seconds. He can't continue to ride his bike in a small circle on our terrace. He needs to run and climb and jump. So we put Sam in the stroller, grabbed his bike, and went to the nearby playground. Liam and Sam enjoyed themselves, and I tried. But the entire time, I was on alert...ready to grab the boys and run.
I find myself slightly altering the way we live. I let Geoff know where we're going and when we'll be back. When home, I keep a window or door open so I can be sure to hear the sirens. I stay up past my normal bedtime, to get the latest news and prepare for the chance of the sirens' wails. I get myself ready and I cook in definitive stages, because there is always a chance of a 10 minute interruption. I systematically check the live updates on Haaretz. I put Liam on listening detail while I bathe Sam in case I don't hear the sirens while the water is running.
It makes me wonder how much Liam knows. We've told him the sirens mean an emergency is happening and he will have to stop what he is doing to run to his room. It's happened three times, and he was awake for two of them. He did everything we asked without question, even when his dinner was interrupted. He is amazing, and I HATE that this wonderful place is being RUINED for him.
As mad and fearful as I am, I cannot imagine how those in and near Gaza must feel. I empathize for the mothers, like me, who just want their kids to be safe and happy, but who have sirens almost hourly and much less time to find a shelter. They go through this day after day, and year after year. I've had, what, 10 days of siren worry? It makes me so angry that I could cry, and sometimes I do. The political game here is ridiculous. Both sides point fingers and say, "They started it!" Both sides claim they are simply defending their people. But both sides share the blame. Both sides are responsible for the innocent lives lost.
There is a good chance we'll have to leave. And that depresses me as much as it relieves me. I know nothing compares to our safety, but we just got here! We have just begun to set-up our house and explore our new home. We have barely started to make friends and find our go-to spots to play and eat. I have seen absolutely nothing of the Old City, haven't visited Bethlehem, or the Jordan River, or the Dead Sea. And I don't want to leave Geoff. An evacuation does not include him. Leaving him behind will crush me.
I am a ball of emotions these days...sad, fearful, angry. But also hopeful. I am usually the optimist in the group, but at times it is hard to maintain that optimism. Because this place is a mess. A lovely, beautiful mess.
Geoff's boss arrives in Egypt tomorrow. Hopefully, he can help get a cease fire going. Because all these rockets and missiles aren't accomplishing anything. Nothing is being gained by either side. It's a pointless pissing contest. And there will never be a winner.
No comments:
Post a Comment