An oasis between Rechov Keren Kayemet and Jabotinsky

A lone white Sabbes shirt, which needs cleaning rests peacefully in my pocket book and accompanies me on my daily walk.

Fact is, that sandwiched between two busy thoroughfares is this quaint small park with a playground where I observe children at play.

Sometimes I desperately search for an item in my closet to say, more to myself than to anyone in particular:

“I am going to the cleaners, will be right back!“

To observe real people doing leisurely activities is pure pleasure. Depending on which day of the week, mostly on Fridays, it’s the fathers who have a sleeping baby in the stroller and a toddler holding his hand. Then he would place the older child into swing and push it “high into the sky“.

Memories of my two young boys on adjoining swings in Roxbury Park, make me smile.

“Higher Mami'” Tzvika would say, his head tilted back, eyes shut, the air caressing his hair, it was pure delight on my children’s faces.

Many times I have the urge to walk over to the fathers who take such good care of their children and let the wife finish up last minute preparations Erev Shabbat or maybe a well-deserved rest. But then I just pass the scene still smiling to myself, when I notice an elderly well dressed gentleman who seems to be seeing the activities on the playground but when I come into closer proximity I perceive that his eyes have lost its luster. He is staring at something which is far behind the horizon.

His hands are folded on his lap, the body not moving. A lone human whose care-giver sits on the other end of the bench busy with her phone.

I continue walking towards my favorite site in the park:
The library, well its bookshelves in the shape of a half circle where books of all sizes lean against each other like tired friends who need a bit of support on each others shoulders.
A sign depicts the name of the donor who dedicated his tiny establishment.
I browse through the items, carefully shoving items to one side, when I spot the pocket book size Tenach. I take my seat which had a firm wooden base to check out my find. It has some yellow stains on the edges of the pages, probably absorbing the moisture from last weeks rainfall.
The book shelves have a cover above but the they are exposed to the weather. I decide to take the Tenach, which is in relative good shape and place it next to the shirt in my purse.
I am fascinated with these book corners which emerged a couple of years ago anywhere in cities in Israel.
We have one in front of our apartment in the shape of a cottage on stilts which does have a double door.
I decluttered my books on my last trip in Israel and shelved them in the tiny library on King David street. Every day I would check if any of my books were still there. Within a week they all ended up in someone’s hands enjoying the contents.

I leave the white shirt at the cleaners on Rechov Jabotinsky and walk back through the park.
The older man is in the same position as before.

The father is in the process of putting on a warm jacket on the toddler, the sun is hiding behind dark clouds above the tall Cyprus. The air is chilly. I button my jacket.

The baby in the carriage is awake and whimpers.

A somberness overtakes my heart.

One more Sabbes and then I have to leave my home in Erez Israel.

Since the war had started, my connection to the land has become extremely strong.

When I pursuit these walks through the park, I pretend it’s good times again in Israel, the war, the hostages, the soldiers who fight for us, the parents who mourn their sons, all of what we think off, stays on the outskirts of my oasis.

I disappear for a short period of time while I stroll through the park, being with children and books.

When I leave my sanctuary, the honking of horns, startles me and wakes me up from my day dream.

I increase my pace and once again I am facing reality of every life.

May Hashem protect

Am Israel!