By Alison Tranbarger Epstein
A sense of time eludes me. I have freed myself of the normal activities that mark my passage through the daily clock and weekly calendar.
The laundry stays piled on the dining room table, where I left it days ago. But which day?
Who cares? All that matters is that time has become binary: Sirens and Between Sirens.
When Between Sirens, I can float on the most beautiful lagoon one could imagine. There is silence before my senses unfold. Everything is still.
My second cup of coffee is strong, a well-deserved reward after a night of broken sleep measured in Sirens time. Too many interruptions to count.
Still, I feel like I am dreaming and wish to remain beside the stilled waters. But a distant rumble of jets reminds me that I am Between Sirens. And then noisy chat notifications dive-bomb into my azure daydream, draining out all the splendor.
My WhatsAppy neighbors bring me back. They share news flashes and jokes to keep up morale. Other friends ask whether I want to leave my home in Ashkelon and take refuge with them. So many offers over all these days. I cannot count.
I am so blessed with so many friends.
I refuse them all. I am not afraid.
***
I shower and put on my favorite Tee – a stripped pink shirt rescued from my mother’s closet years ago. It reminds me of when I was 4 years old and she taught me to recite the 23rd Psalm in the language of King James, decades before I chose to become a Jew.
Mom, thy ribbons and thy stripes, they comfort me.
The deep waves of the set-aside time system jostle me. It is Friday, and we are sailing a parallel binary, traveling ben chol l’kodesh.
My husband, Stevy, and I take stock, and we have enough to eat this Shabbat. We even have enough for guests.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies…
***
Back Between Sirens.
We take our two dogs outside and wonder: Will it be like other times this week, when rockets were fired at Ashkelon while we were walking our dogs? I can still count: Once there was no place to run and we had to lie down on the sidewalk.
He maketh me to lie down…
And two other times, when we could run to shelter in the concrete valley between a retaining wall and a building.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…
I am not afraid.
***
Red Alert chimes sound from my phone. For the umpteenth time this week, we might be moving from Between Sirens to Sirens.
I wait.
I listen.
I hear distant booms and say a prayer because I know that someone else is living in the time of Sirens.
I am not afraid.
For thou art with me.
