A White Night

It is 02:45am Friday morning and I am waiting up for my husband to return from the airport. I am lying on my bed and hear, or rather feel, a rhythmic thumping followed by heavy machine gun fire.

I am not sure so I stand outside for a while. I can feel the ground rumbling gently beneath my barefeet – heavy vehicles are mobilising in the distance.

I hear no more thumping but I can see a few stars through the wispy clouds and there is a soft cool breeze in the night air.

I return home and there is more thumping but every time I listen it goes away. I turn off the TV and the thumping returns, this time louder and closer. I can actually feel the house trembling. Boom-pah, Boom-pah, Boom-pah!

They must be battling on the border and it is getting worse. I think of our poor brave soldiers and remember the sad news broadcast this evening.

The thumping stops for a while and when it starts again it is further away and after a while it stops altogether.

Boom. The pressure flexes my eardrums. Was that in or out? I wasn’t concentrating. Another boom and another or really rather ‘pahom’ I have a mental image of a recoiling artillery unit and am pretty sure it is outgoing.

No sirens here to warn of incoming, we are too close for it to be quick enough. Unlike Haifa residents there is no dilemma for us about whether it is safe to go out. A few people bravely take their dogs for a walk and others rush around in their cars but otherwise we are indoors 24/7.

The buildings opposite are classic Israeli style flats set on stilts so even the first floor entails a flight of stairs. The entrance is underneath and there is room for storerooms if the residents want to build them.

Along our road the area under the buildings serves as a protected play space for the children and sometimes even the location for a party.

In the present situation the area provides a sense of security for the older people as they sit outside chatting in the cool of the evening. The cover of darkness allowing them an hour or so to stretch their legs and breath fresh air before they return to shelters and security rooms.

ES