Spoke to Elie…finally

He sounds so tired. So so tired. He’s good. He’s fine. Trying to save his battery by keeping the phone off as much as possible.

“How are you?” I asked him several times.

“Good,” he answered. “Fine,” and “busy.” All one word responses. This is a conversation I need more than him. I know that and yet couldn’t close the phone. I don’t know when I’ll speak to him again, never mind when I’ll see him.

I didn’t ask him about when he thought he might get home; he can’t possibly know.

I didn’t ask him if he was sleeping enough. “I’m fine,” was all he would say.

I told him about the 3-hour ceasefire from our side, “Really?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s to let the people in Gaza go buy food and stuff.”

“Ok,” he responded; clearly too tired to think of anything else.

On the scale of 1-10, this phone call won’t go down as a great conversation to remember, but I talked to him and that has to be enough, more than enough.

“Have you gotten my messages?” I asked.

There was noise in the background; I could hear talking and radio static.

“Ima?” I heard him say and so I repeated my question. Yes, he’s been getting my messages.

“Try to send me a message sometimes, just telling me you are OK. OK?” I asked and in a tired voice, such a tired voice, he agreed that he would.

I wish for my son…safety and health…and sleep.

Behold, the Guardian of Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. (Psalm 121:4)

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