It’s Shabbat so we are getting starting later.
One of my neighbor’s sons with four kids came last night as they just could not stay as guests of others any longer. That’s what I anticipated . . . the hospitality wears thin after a while and this is a long-drawn out situation . . .
Anyhow, I’d promised the use of the library to neighbors upstairs and we were in the storage room so the family of 6 huddled together in a corner of Shoshana’s apartment which we’d been told is (relatively) safe . . .
Tonight, the upstairs neighbors are going back south so the family can bring mattresses to the library and be more comfortable.
I was just remembering an old Yiddish saying my mother used to toss at us on occasion – “Don’t beshry it . . . ” Well, I was just swallowing my breakfast and thinking that for the first time in days I was eating without the siren – and obviously I had “beshried” the situation . . . Loud and ugly went the siren and Edyth moved the breakfast to the “safe” corner. . . Amazing, though, how almost blase one becomes about all this.
Last night after a day of frequent sirens and a direct hit not too far away, there was a sudden boom so close that the building shook and the smell of burning filled our nostrils. I don’t know what they got that time. We just went to sleep.
Last evening, I learned that our library treasurer’s husband died (of old age) yesterday. The funeral will be here in Safed on Monday and it will be a challenge to pay a shiva call . . .
Life really can be complicated.
Becky’s son is here from the US and with her in the midst of our situation and she does not go to the shelter usually so he is facing the loss of a father, the daily threat of ketyushas landing very near their apartment and fear for his mother’s safety–not easy at all.
Many people do come to the library.
If the sirens go off while they are with us, they wait the ten minutes one is supposed to wait and then go on their way . . .