Scared For You

She said she'd send pictures of herself with an AK-47. She said she'd point the weapon at the camera and she laughed. She said something about a bomb shelter near the kibutz she'd be living in and her phone cut out.



She said not to worry and I told her I was really just scared for her. She said, "I know." She told me that she's just so happy that she finally "gets to do what she wants." I asked her if she could change her mind and come back to the US if she got there and was scared or unahppy. In a very womanly, grown-up, even maternal, tone she said, "Yes, Reuben. Of course I can come back."

"Some people can't be told that the stove is hot they have to touch it." - My father.

This message goes out into the ether to land on deaf ears.
I write to you to tell you that I feel love for you.
Tears collect behind my eyes, but I cannot cry.
You are a long way away, climbing further and further.
I hope that you don't end up like your brother, my childhood friend, Terry.
I pray to no God in particular that your mother does not lose another child to a distant cause.
The community that you feel you will be joining in Israel is really right here in the place you run away from. I want to tell you this, but you don't want to listen.
There are bombs falling. There is no right side of a war like this. I want to tell you, but you most definitely don't want to listen. You have chosen a side. You are bold, fragile, confident and confused. I want to hold you and never let go. I can feel what your mother feels right now. I can feel, even for a moment, what it must feel like to be a father or a mother.
Jennifer (as your mother named you) - Mihal (your chosen name)
I wish you luck and invisibility.
I bid you a safe farewell and an even safer return.

Love
Reuben