Sarah Tuttle-Singer
A Mermaid in Jerusalem

Nearly 2 months later and It’s still October 7

Every day I have to physically look at a calendar to see what day it is… Wednesday? Friday?

(Someone said today is Sunday.)

The thing is, for me, it’s really just the same day: October 7.

Yesterday was October 7
Today is October 7
The todays of tomorrow will be October 7

I don’t know how to stop making it be October 7.


I am a child again – staggering around, looking for my mother to smooth the sharp edges and tuck me in and tell me

I can’t find my mother, but I look down and see her hands.

I thought today was Tuesday but it’s actually Sunday.


But the thing is, some of the hostages are coming home.

So I’m standing here in the kitchen and


The broom feels bigger than I remember –
It’s been a while.


I haven’t swept the floors since “BEFORE” – in that fuzzy smudge of a planet  I vaguely remember, that once upon time and place I lived on where monsters didn’t exist —
Or at least where our government knew how to protect us like they swore they would – and where people I once thought were my fellow travelers didn’t justify and celebrate blood thirsty savagery.

The house is a mess… I look around. My mother would be mortified:
— my dust bunnies have turned into dust woolly mammoths. (Hey, if you don’t here, don’t judge… just give me credit for washing the dishes. ) and I’m not sure why I’m embarrassed —— it’s not like we get much company over here anyway, but I am embarrassed and I’m holding the broom for the first time
Because I want the house clean for them. The hostages. The ones coming home – please GD – I want the place tidy enough like the way my mom would make the house when I was sick or heartbroken or had just had a rough day… how she’d tuck the corners in just so and smooth the chaos all away… I want to do the same for them – the women and children we hope will come home — because they deserve a nation ready to hold them and protect them, a nation organized enough and together enough to be the adult for them in the way the government wasn’t for any of us when it mattered, but the way my mother was for me, the way all children deserve.

We are the grownups now.
So I sweep the floor.
Today is
October 7

Maybe tomorrow will start becoming October 8.

About the Author
Sarah Tuttle-Singer is the author of Jerusalem Drawn and Quartered and the New Media Editor at Times of Israel. She was raised in Venice Beach, California on Yiddish lullabies and Civil Rights anthems, and she now lives in Jerusalem with her 3 kids where she climbs roofs, explores cisterns, opens secret doors, talks to strangers, and writes stories about people — especially taxi drivers. Sarah also speaks before audiences left, right, and center through the Jewish Speakers Bureau, asking them to wrestle with important questions while celebrating their willingness to do so. She loves whisky and tacos and chocolate chip cookies and old maps and foreign coins and discovering new ideas from different perspectives. Sarah is a work in progress.
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