I woke up this morning feeling better than my poor jet-lagged body has felt since I landed Friday. And, realizing that the jetlag and prohibitive heat have made exercise tricky, I decided to veer off my normal schedule and take a morning walk.
By chance, one of my friends was available and we walked together for part of the time. And then, as I headed home to get ready for work, I saw why I had been sent out on this particular morning.
In front of me was a friend whose son was murdered in a battle in Gaza a few months ago. She has been expressing her loss and her feelings through poetry and has been sharing so much of herself and her struggles with this medium. Her poems are all in Hebrew; when I first started reading them, I Google Translated everything. More recently, I have stopped doing so. When a poem is shared on this small whatsapp group where I feel honored to be included, I find a quiet corner and a few minutes to myself. I take a deep breath, slowly read and reread her words, and then wipe my tears. Because there are always tears. How could there not be?
Today, I wasn’t sure if she wanted to be alone on her walk or if she would enjoy the company. It’s impossible to navigate these questions for such untenable situations; so I find the best course of action is just to ask.
We walked together for just a few minutes. I told her, proudly, that I’ve started reading her poems in Hebrew. I told her how I read her poems, slowly, wiping tears as I go.
“Oh, they make you cry? I’m sorry to make you cry.”
“Of course they make me cry,” I replied. “How could they not? Everything in our surroundings makes me cry these days.”
We were silent for a few minutes and then parted ways. As we started walking in different directions, she turned around and said,
“I hope someday that I can make you laugh as well.”
And I just thought, Oh you beautiful person.
I hope you can as well.
And I hope I can make you laugh, too.
And that we can all make each other laugh.
I hope that our tiny, bleeding country can make me laugh again someday, as well.
I pray and hope that the day may come soon.
Amen.
Oh Romi, from far away we hope the same. That peace and laughter can return after all that horrible year of horror and grief.
All the best to you and your family.