The Masa Kumta
Blue sky and thick sand as far as the eye can see. At some point in the distance the two blend as one. I sit on a picnic bench under an aishel tree as a cool sweet breeze is blowing. I reflect on the Hebrew vocabulary words I have learned over the past six months: tekes, hashba’ah, masa kumta, and chayal boded. The chayal boded is my son, a lone soldier. My heart beams with pride and my eyes well up with tears.
The sounds of fighter jets and explosions jar me from my thoughts. I should be alarmed, yet I know I am safe. If only I could wrap up this moment and hold on to the serenity I feel.






