It’s that time again. The time no one ever talks about. Those few days in-between the memorial for the dead of the Holocaust and those who fell in battle. That day that leads seamlessly into Israel’s Independence Day.
On the surface of it everything’s gone back to normal after Yom H’Shoah. But it hasn’t really. Now is a time of reflection. Not that time where you sit around trying to think. But that time where you push it out of your mind. That time where, because you know it’s coming, you’re thinking about it. But because it’s not actually here you aren’t really dwelling.
But it’s all around us. On Rabin Square the rows and rows of black plastic seats are already set out. The flags are out on the streets for the end of the day of memorial and the start of the celebrations of Israel’s birthday. We remembered the dead in the Holocaust, we’ll remember the fallen and then we’ll get drunk in celebration of what they died to protect.
But for now it’s all just a little thought in the back of our minds. The weather is turning from Spring to Summer, the beaches are filled with tanned Sabras and light skinned tourists burning in the sun. The television is showing documentaries about the state of Israel and the people are planning their Independence Day barbecues.
It’s this time, this in-between time that I savor the most. When we’re remembering but we’re not remembering, when we anticipate the celebrations and when our thoughts turn back to those that we knew and are no longer with us. Back to the times of our mandatory military service. When we take another look at the old pictures and think back to times when risking our lives was the norm.
These are the in-between days. I love them so.