Not so different after all

Today’s tseva adom (at least the most recent one) occurred in a way that is becoming all too frequent lately. The alert sounded almost at the same time as the ‘boom.’ In other words, no fifteen seconds to run for safety, or ten or five. Maybe two.

It is a little unnerving to know that we might just get the alert in time to know what killed us. I do understand: we are very close to the border, and the system has to have time to register a launch, calculate its trajectory, and so on. Still, it is less than reassuring.

I’ve been enjoying a quiet day. Got a visit from someone who does acupuncture, who is helping me to (among other things) get my blood sugar down, and deal with various pains and problems I have as a result of having M.S., and as a result of spending far too much time in bed as a result of the M.S.

It isn’t hard to get medical and health care people to do home visits despite the bombs falling, something that I find really marvelous. I just wouldn’t have expected it. Of course I grew up someplace where there haven’t been bombs, rockets or fighting in living memory. It is sometimes a bit strange to think about how far I’ve come from my life in the U.S.

I certainly didn’t intend to move here, so close to Gaza and all this danger – but that was because of the desert. Having always and only lived in the northern part of the northern hemisphere, the so-called ‘temperate’ zone, I didn’t think I could and didn’t want to live in a ‘true desert.’ Obviously time has proved that I can, and even if I didn’t want to, now that I’m here I don’t want to leave. I do miss naturally running water, though.

When I was up north yesterday picking up my son, I was looking at the green hillsides and thinking how much I would like to live in that sort of terrain. But not – to leave what has become my home, where my family lives, and as kids move out and marry, the family extends but in this area.

Granted Israel isn’t that large. When we lived in the American midwest we didn’t think anything of throwing ourselves in the car and driving four hours to visit my husband’s uncle. I suppose if I still lived in the midwest I would have the midwesterner’s view to distances. But my world has gotten smaller, and much more intimate. Driving the approximately 2.5 hours to pick up my son was a stretch, one I wouldn’t do unthinkingly, or often.

I have to say it is amazing how much better youngest son looks after spending a bunch of time away from the rockets, and where he can sleep. I am so grateful for my friends Tzvia and Elisa for opening their homes to my son. I know it isn’t easy. I have other friends who have offered and I guess if we decide he needs another break, we’ll send him to a new place – seeing Israel a little bit at a time. ūüėČ

Well, I’m going to get back to knitting – it’s going well today. It was interrupted by the latest tseva adom, so I took advantage of the break to type something. You just never know … you never know when the next rocket will come, when the next boom will jar you out of a reverie, when the next attack will hurt or kill someone, maybe even someone you love.

It’s like life in general, but much more immediate, much more intense.

Sometimes what is most surprizing about living in a war zone is the ways in which it isn’t different at all.

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