Last time we visited the States, approximately two years ago, we avoided the short period of time during which rockets rained down on Jerusalem. Instead of learning how to run to the bomb shelter in her nursery, my daughter celebrated Thanksgiving with a delicious feast, with her family in New York. It was over by the time we returned.
Today, as I sit at a baseball game in New York (minor league team, called the Ducks), Jerusalem, my city, is almost literally burning. Friends of mine who live in our neighborhood are afraid to leave their homes or travel to happy occasions throughout the country. The senseless murder of three Jewish boys seems to have been answered with the senseless murder of an Arab boy. If I were home right now, I might be locking the doors as well, glued to the news.
Is it wrong to be grateful for my brother for choosing to get married this week in Kansas, so we could be far away from the fear and the chaos?
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