Sunday, March 13, 2011

The Playground in Nitzan

Sunday Morning.

I just got a phone call from "Yedidya, m'hamishtara". Recognized the voice immediately as belonging to the police, but didn't know which one it was. Not that I cared.
"So, what's new", he asks. "Did you see him, did anyone else see him?"
In my disgusted shock, I could manage no more than a mumbled "no".
"Ok" he continues, with just the perfect blend of false concern and cheeriness, "well, let us know if you do. And we'll update you if anything changes on our part."

All the bitterness, rage, weariness and hurt that I thought gone, came back.
Full force.
Chest and stomach pains.

I recall my post from a few days ago, my conclusion/realization that Hashem does everything He does to me out of extreme love, but it still hurts. I try to concentrate on the Purim candies in my hand, "תן חיוך הבל לטובה" is boldy splashed all over the wrapper. It helps, it helps, but not enough.

I go to Nitzan's playground to Daven.

The play structure has been transplanted from Nevei Dekalim. Only some of the bullet holes have been filled.

I sit on a low bench. A young couple with their two children arrive. Typical merriment ensues.

I think hard.

They moved on. They were hit MUCH harder than I was and by A LOT more people than I was and they still come to the park and play.

I consider requesting a hug from the young mother.

I start wandering, lost in my thoughts. I stumble in a small sand ditch. The sudden loss of balance shocks me, causing me to feel much more angst than necessary. An impish grin appears on my face when I realize I was being silly for feeling so nervous from the small, completely insignificant, fall.

Aha. Life is full of sand ditches. Don't overreact, chava'le.
G-d is g-u-i-d-i-n-g you.

1 comment:

the sabra said...

B"H for this piece. I am always so grateful when my writing allows me the expression I need.