It has been 100 days since October 7 and I am trying to put words to my daily thoughts; below are 18 of them. It has been 100 days of war and captivity – pain, worry, shock, fear, concern, sadness, confusion, and yes, anger.
- Every time I take a shower I feel guilty, wondering when the hostages last felt the purifying sensation of warm water flowing over scalp and shoulders. When they last felt clean.
- Every time I put on my glasses I wonder how many hostages have lost theirs, and cannot even see clearly, one of our most basic human needs.
- Every time I talk to my children I think of the parents who cannot.
- Every time after a siren or terrorist attack, and I am asked, “How are you,” I feel guilty for saying, “Fine thank you.” But really, am I? Are we?
- Every time I do housework and am tempted to complain, I say, “Thank God I am physically capable, and in my own house, cleaning my own mess.”
- Every time I do laundry I am thankful that I have clean clothes, and shudder to think what the hostages are wearing.
- Every time I am able to tend to my personal hygiene, I think of those who are deprived of this basic necessity, and my thoughts go to the hostages.
- Every time I buy something new, I wish I could buy something new for those being held hostage, and get it to them. Anything. From us.
- Every time I turn on the radio I wonder if maybe, just maybe, the hostages hear us, from where they are being held, in Gaza.
- Every time I get into bed I pray the hostages have blankets like we do.
- Every time I eat pita bread, I am reminded that pita may be the only thing the hostages are eating, and it just doesn’t taste the same anymore. And water, never again to be taken for granted…
- Every time I have a headache and take a painkiller, I realize how such a simple action is impossible for the hostages.
- Every time I decide what to read, have the ability to decide, I feel for the hostages who cannot make even the simplest decisions such as what to read.
- Every time I cut my nails I realize how even this we take for granted – and wonder what hostages do about overgrown nails after 100 days.
- Every time I plan, I feel grateful for the ability to plan, and ask – will the freed hostages ever re-gain that skill?
- Every time I snuggle my pets I pray there are friendly animals in the vicinity of the hostages, perhaps granting them a few seconds of joy and comfort, albeit ephemeral.
- Every time I choose in the morning what shoes to wear, I feel ashamed by how many pairs I have accumulated, and pray the hostages have even just one comfortable, dry, warm pair for the day.
- Every time I wipe away a tear I ask myself if the hostages are still capable of crying.
When there is a lull in my day, I find myself thinking about the hostages, the injured, the families of the victims. And I wonder how many hostages will ultimately be able to read this post, from home, and when that will occur.