While reading the responds of worried family members abroad to my last post, I thought I should write my next post as an a Itinerary, that might give you a notion of how life in Tel Aviv are now, and maybe calm you a bit. So here is yesterday's Itinerary. Please remember one thing – this was yesterday. Today is a new day, with plenty of surprises of its own.
05.30 – I wake up. Michael and Daniel both wake up few seconds after me. Alas, no morning writing today. Instead, we begin the day with a bottle of milk substitute and children songs per request on my pc. The boys are standing affront my notepad, at the dining table, competing on who will decide which song we will hear first.
06.30 – a refreshing shower to father and boys. They do not like showers, they prefer a nice bath. But in days of war I cannot allow this, since I never know when the siren might come. After the shower we change diapers and choose cloths. Michael wants red clothes, as his pajama is, but I refuse. The siren against missiles is called "Red Paint" and I cannot see
my boy with red clothes during those days.
07.00 – an early call to my father, to consult with him should I take the boys to the kindergarten during the first day of the land invasion of IDF to Gaza. My father says that I should. The boys should keep their life routine, he says. I agree. I also need my routine.
07.10 – we get into the kindergarten. We are the first who got there, aside of the staff. I tell them that I hesitated whether or not I should bring the boys there today, but decided I will. Even few hours might be a lot for me, I said. They smile tensely. No one can tell how the day is going to unfold.
07.30 – On my way back from the kindergarten I drive straight to the market. I need vegetables and fruits for the weekend, and I am afraid that if I will do it later, I might be caught with sirens. I buy all I need, and go to the flower shop, to hug and kiss my friends Kalanit and Shachar. We know each other for many years. Kalanit insists on giving me a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers without charge. She knows how much I love sunflowers and is aware of my economical state at the moment. Bless her; the flowers indeed gave me joy this weekend.
08.30 – I went to the gym for 30 minutes of aerobics. Many years ago my past shrink told me that I should begin every day with sport, and I obey. It is much better to deal with anxiety with sport than with Xanax. I also do not take Xanax for 2.3 years, since the boys were born. I have a new package. Only God knows how much I need it. But I do not open it because I want to stay sober and focused at my kids. This is the reason why I also do not drink, at all.
09.30 – I am at my favorite coffee shop, The Espresso Bar, at Rotchild-Herzl St. I find that I have not mood to work on my next novel. A few minutes ago the IDF has announced the death of the first Israeli soldier, and the sorrow and sadness I feel makes it impossible for me to write a word. Instead, I edit 12 pages of my pupil and writer colleague, Adela.
11.30 – I cannot see words anymore. I go home, to swipe the floor and put the house in order before the boys come back from the kindergarten. I also do Friday shopping at the nearest grocery store.
12.30 – I bring my boys back home from the kindergarten. When they fight who will sit on each seat I tell them that this is no time for such things. We should not delay our ride back home, because I do not want to get caught by a siren while we are at the car. The boys immediately sit at their sits. I should not use this at all, but I do.
12.45 – back home. They ask to see their favorite children star, Mickey, on television. I give them that. After half an hour I find that I have miraculously read half of Friday's paper. This did not happen since they were born. It seems that they already know how to amuse themselves, I smile.
13.30 – "boys, only those who go to sleep at noon can go to grandpa in the afternoon," I say. This is the only way to make them take their Friday nap. It works again. We sleep together and wake up at 16.40.
16.45 – triple shower. The boys cry. They do not like showers, even the Friday afternoon shower, which is dedicated to grandpa. They choose 'men's shirts', buttoned shirts. Just before getting into the car I remind them that if we will hear a siren on our way to grandpa, there is nothing to be afraid of, as we will go into a shelter to lie on our backs on the road.
18.00 – the second I turn from La Guardia St. to Ayalon highway, the siren goes on. I stop immediately after the junction. Few other cars stop near me. I have maximum 90 seconds to untie them from their seats and find a shelter. I am gasping for air, but I untie Michael, take him on my hands (it's a highway!) to Daniel's door, untie him as well, lift him from his seat and raise my eyes. Few days ago one driver killed another under the same circumstances. The killed driver did what he should have done. He stopped his car and lay on the ground. The second driver continued his ride and ran over him. I do not want us to be next. I see that the other passengers who have stopped nearby are crossing the road fence and run into the nearest house stairway. I do the same. The minute we climb to the first floor, as IDF have asked us to do in such a case, we hear the missile blow, it's near. We count. One, two, three blows. "It's three rockets!" one woman cries. "No, it is one missile and two Israeli rockets which take it down," her husband replies. I look at them. He is without shirt, as all five boys, different ages, are. She does not sit. She stands above them, frightened. "Sit down," he says. She shakes hear head. "Are they twins?" I try, smiling. "No," he says, "four of them are ours, in different ages, the fifth is their nephew." I look at these beautiful boys. The do not look frightened, but rather amused. With us there is a married couple with their son, who looks the same age as my boys, and is totally terrified. There is also a single man who asks me: "are you alone with your boys?" "Yes'" I say. "Oh, this must be very hard," he says. I almost tell him that it is not hard at all, when you are a single father of two, but I don't. I do not have time for social encounters. After ten minutes at the stairway I bless them all and go back to my car. I put the boys back into their seats, praying that there will not be another siren before we get to my hometown, Ramat Hasharom. Usually it takes a 17 minutes ride from my home to my father's, but today it takes much longer. I sing to them all the way to my father's in order to change their mood. It works, they laugh!
18.30 – my father comes out of the yard to greet us and help me with the boys. He loves them so much. He hugs and kisses them, calling them 'my boys.' Inside, I prepare Tahini for all our family. This is my job every Friday, I do it well. Two of my brothers come with their children. Sarel and Ori teach Daniel how to headstand on grandpa's grass. Michael is playing with me on grandpa's stairs,
19.00 – my father blesses the wine and bread. We begin to eat. I see on my mobile that Hamas promise missiles on Israel at 20.00 o'clock. I tell it to my family. My younger brother, Aviv, says we should split. He and his wife and two children will take refuge in the toilet room. The others will hide in grandpa's stairway to the second floor. I look at Michal, my sister in law, who is busy feeding Daniel. "If the siren is on you will lift him from his baby seat to the stairway and I will take Michael," I say. She agrees. We eat the first course – two vegetable salads, an egg salad, an avocado salad and tahini. Then my father's wonderful chicken soup is served by Lia, my niece. We eat soup even on the hottest days of the year. This is our family tradition. Lia brought Moshe, her boyfriend, to dine with us. He is very nice. She is 18 years old. She started her military service only two days ago. She is going to be a military nurse and wants to attend medical studies after her army service. Her brother Omri, 21, stayed in the army for the weekend. Their younger brother, Ethan, 15, is with us. I look at them, asking myself is there enough time to eat our soup. It's 19.50. Ten minutes before 20.00. But my brother Yair laughs, and says nothing will happen. He is right.
20.15 – we eat the main dish, grandpa's weekly chicken and potatoes. This is the most common Israeli Friday meal. While we eat my father gets a phone call. It's strange. No one calls anyone at 20.00 in Friday night, unless something has happened. My father answers. He smiles, says few words and puts down his phone. "You know who it was?" he asks us all, "it was Selma, the Arab woman who cleaned our house when mother was sick. She phoned to see that everything is ok with us, and invited us all to her house up the north of Israel, until the war is over. Isn't it amazing? 12 years already have passes since your mother has passed away, and Selma still calls now and then to see how we are." I look at my family, I think about my mother, whom we miss so much, and think about the crazy reality of the Israeli life – an Arab woman calls a Jewish family during the Friday meal, to offer her house as refuge until the end of the missile war that was enforced on us by a Muslim terror organization, The Hamas.
21.15 – we finish cleaning grandpa's house. My sister in law Hagit is doing the dishes. Meanwhile I succeed to tell Michal, my sister in law, the full synopsis of my next novel. I always do so, because she is a great artist, and as flamenco choreographer and dancer her responds to my writing are always empowering.
21.30 – my father and sister in law accompany us to the car. They kiss the boys again and again. Michal invites us to their house during August for a vacation. We drive away.
21.40 – I turn from Ramat Hasharon to road number 5. The boys are eating their bottles. I think I hear a siren, but I am not sure. I decide to continue driving and turn from road no 5 to Ayalon highway. Doing so, I see too many cars at the edge of the road. I understand that there was a siren indeed, but I did not hear it. Maybe it was only at south of Tel Aviv, I say to myself. There is no use to stop now. Many cars continue their course on the highway. We might get heart. And if a missile will come straightforward maybe I will be able to rush my car and escape it.
21.50 – no missile had stopped us, thank God. Michael and Daniel are already half asleep at the car. I take them into our house. I take Luna, our old Golden Retriever out, to pee, and then we all go to bed. The boys go to sleep quickly, without even brushing their teeth. It is very late. I wait until they are asleep and sneak out of bed to take my medicines and have few free hours of reading the news and surfing the net. I cannot write fiction, but I do write a short post in English. I eat my night cereals and yogurt with nuts and finally, at 24.30, I go to sleep.
Today was another day indeed. We woke up 05.30, went to the Safari and 08.30 and spent two wonderful hours with animals, instead of human beasts.
Such is life in Israel right now. If it sounds hard, imagine the Israelis at the south, who have 0nly 10-15 seconds to find shelter, and live for the last 14 years under a permanent threat of Palestinian missiles. Not to say that since the war has begun they get missiles every few seconds.
This is our life, this is our world. So the next time you are worried or you hear or read lies about Israel, know what life is like here, in only one single day of a 54 gay father of twins.
May God bless you all, Amen.
