Weird. The first siren of the morning found me in bed just before 10:00 a.m. (Our sleeping patterns are erratic.) Oddly, I was calm. Maybe because I was just sleeping. Who knows?
Then the explosions. One after another. I couldn't count as some of them fell together. But I figured it was more than 10.
A few of them were very close. One especially. Car alarms went off from that blast. And I'm eerily calm. Is it possible I'm getting used to this? Can anyone get used to this?
My sister - I'm thinking. She took her girl to the HMO this morning. Was she home on time? Was she on the road?
My friend from Haifa calls. She's alone with her 4-month-old. She calls me for support. She yelled at me for flying over, now she's the one who won't leave her home and who relies on me somewhat. Even if it's from a distance.
"A siren," I jump and tell her while we talk.
"I don't hear anything," she says.
It's true. It was the emergency vehicles sirens.
"It must be right near you, then," she says.
We remain under the stairs.
We go up. The tally: 13 rockets. 2 dead. About ten wounded.
I talk to my sisters. Everybody's fine.
The fear returns. With a vengeance. I think I hardly had a moment where I didn't feel sick to my stomach ever since I got here.
Another siren. "Only" three blasts this time.
We're home again. My dad's watching a show about the Caribbean. Nice.
I wish my husband was up now so I could call him.
He has this magical way of calming me.
This morning, after I woke up at 4:30 a.m. because of some noise, I couldn't fall sleep again because I was too scared. I finally called hubby around 6:00 a.m.. At the end of our conversation I fell asleep. Gosh, I miss him. But I won't call him. I don't want to worry him. He's worried sick as it is.
Categories: personal, Israel, Lebanon