I love to walk in extreme heat. In the late summer afternoons, I “do” 9 kilometers along the beach.
The beach sands are still burning and the Mediterranean sun is still pounding down at 4 pm when my walk begins, but by 520 pm, the cool wind has been added to the mix.
It is not wise to walk on the beach in a city being bombed. The shelters are few and far between; sirens cannot be heard clearly if the sea is noisy.
I have lived long enough to know that when my time comes, it comes.
At 440 pm, I hear a siren. There is no where to go. The sea waves on my left are high, the sand strip on which I walking is narrow; I have a huge stone wall on my right. Maybe I should not be here. Fuck it. Johnny Walker. Keep walking. Two faint blasts are heard.I check my smartphone; 3 missiles have been downed over a working class area. Keep walking.
At 515 pm I can see my car 100 meters away in the parking lot . Again, the sirens go off. There is a very very loud noise everywhere. My hearing is better than I thought. Out of nowhere, I see missiles overhead. Right over my head. Iron Dome missiles are also over head. Right over my head.
When did this chaos in the parking lot area begin? Where is the yelling coming from? I hear fearful curses in Hebrew, French, Russian, Arabic and English. People are running, some are crying, frightened. Some people are laughing. Someone is putting on sun oil.
I look up. The Iron Dome interception is overhead. There is going to be shrapnel. If it hits me, I hope it is a direct hit. No injuries please. I took care of my wife when she was dying. My kids are great. And I did enjoy the walk. How much longer till the shrapnel hits the ground for shit sake? This is taking forever. I am not a patient person. Never was.
When nothing falls near me, I get into my car and update my daughter who never worries anyway. “So Abba (dad), you are still around? and we laugh.
I put on my favourite song, and drive off.
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