The war is knocking on my door
By Biri Rottenberg-Rosler
The war is knocking on my door. I don’t want to open, I don’t want to answer that call. I am not at home.
When I left Israel five weeks ago to travel in Europe, the soldier Gilaad Shavit was kidnapped. I felt very sad. I knew that my country is a crazy place. But I could not imagine how far it is going to get. I became a refugee. I travel along Israel, moving from one city to another, with my husband, our dog, his violin and 9 bags.
Traveling in Rome, Florence and Barcelona, I went to every church and museum I could. I looked at these holy pieces of arts. And I felt waves of envy all over my body. I never felt envy towards a painting before. But to see it hanging there, knowing exactly where he is going to be in the next generations, made me feel like a temporary exhibition.
By the time we arrived to the Pyrenees, the beautiful landscape started to mix with the ugly news. I got a SMS from a friend who's working with me. She wrote that In the middle of the staff meeting they saw the missiles crossing the skies. In another part of mother earth's skirt I was crossing the skies on a special train. The beautiful and powerful mountains around were looking at me with surprise. I wanted to run away, I felt like a prisoner of mother earth between heaven and hell.
I've never thought that I love my life here so much, that I will miss it. All these precious moments, all of this routine -it is me. It is my self. I miss drinking coffee on the balcony, I miss the Carmel Mountain and I am sure that he is missing me. I miss looking at my big glass windows and feeling secure.
The war is still knocking on my door, on my body, on my ears. It is everywhere. I am covered with a huge shawl of pictures of suffering, ruins, lonely people and lost dogs. I feel that we are all looking for our owners. I want this war to come to its end! I want my life and my self back.
Biri Rottenberg-Rosler, 30, Bibliotherapist, Ph.d student, Haifa university.