Happy Birthday To Me

I woke up after nine hours of uninterrupted sleep—the first time in 99 days. The memory of the ice cream cake devoured early was still on my mind and rumbling in my stomach. Note to self: Ben and Jerry's can't conquer my intolerance to ice cream.

The messages, notes, wishes, presents, and thoughts made this day special. This is the one day when Facebook really shines, and it may be the only reason I haven't closed my account. I loved hearing from you and seeing your presence, if only for a brief moment. It brings back floods of memories and a wish that all of you could celebrate with me in person. Preferably at a dance party with a signature cocktail and nachos.

But there are two best birthday gifts of all. First, I am forever grateful that my family was home together, doing nothing extraordinary. Unless you count pizza eating, chatting, and laughing as something more than ordinary. I don't take this for granted.

And the second best gift was waking up to two sounds that I hadn't heard together in months. 99 days to be exact. The sounds of birds chirping and children playing outside. I never realized how musical and free those sounds are to deflated war torn ears.

And I used my one wish on my special day for, please God, the safe release of all the hostages. Those that are still being held in inhospitable places and unimaginable conditions. I pray for their strength and safety and hope with all my heart for this to end. Now.

So happy birthday to me. May my blessings spill on yours, and we are all blessed each day we are alive. 

P.S. While there were no sirens on my birthday, there was one the day after. Strange because if you look at the map, they really only targeted Ashdod, a bit south of us, and Yavne. It had been awhile since we got a siren; lately, they have been targeting all the towns around us. Did they know it was my birthday? Is this their way of saying, "Hey"? You will be happy to know that for the first time, my legs didn't shake.