Flight year

(to the blessed memory of Jonathan Netanyahu)

There are some different times in a history of mankind when being on the six or seven side streets, you have to choose which way to go. And every way has its own ends. Then people will start looking for help from others. If it is in vain, they`ll turn eyes to the sky. Notwithstanding to this, the sky will not answer as quickly as they want. Hopeless, they shrug shoulders, silently asking for reason. In the hope of clarification to what heaven circle their prayers have soared, they will often more look at to sky, but day by day there will be little hope and eyes will begin to grow dim. Only the bravest will try to rekindle the extinguished sparks of the eyes asserting that the Lord will certainly answer them. At dawn they, like angels with white cape, will pass in crowds through the narrow streets of Baghdad. Old man David ben Solomon with tight eyes from the dull yellow light of the lamp that he holds in hand will be able to see only the white cape of the last of them. He will seem to him either as cousin who lives in Amadia or the son of neighbor – Jacob ben Isaac. At times he introduces himself instead of guy with the white cape. It happens, that he is dozing by the window in the hope of seeing him again. Then the shadow of his chubby average height falls on those dawn passers, by supposedly catching up with them. Peaceful breeze of peaceful Baghdad is mixed with the heavy sighs of the old man. In this silence he cannot find peace in any way. He often claims that he would be fine if they stayed in the war. The news of the defeat of the crusaders deprived the old man of walking for three days. He kept saying that Jerusalem was before his eyes.

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It really should be like this – says the eldest son of the old man Yerschalaim – I wonder how many times a day?

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With every breath – answers the youngest son John.

The eldest son has a small store in the central market of Baghdad where he sells ink nuts. John works as his helper. But sometimes the old man gets the idea that the guy in the white cape might be his youngest son, John. At the sight of a young man, the old man’s knees begin to tremble. Barely showing up he evanesces like a mirage. Despite the fact that the old man several times tried to talk about it with his son his desires were not crowned with success. “They are, probably, rabbis who in the morning go to read the Talmud” – said Yercshalaim. With the question of whether they would see Jerusalem again, the old man turned to people every day. Not having received an answer, he began to ask from everything that surrounds him. People did not consider it necessary to pay attention to the fact that the old man was completely weakening and talking to himself. It happened in those days. David ben Solomon, sitting on a log that is located on the edge of his small garden, took of his turban. At the same time his youngest son John appeared. For the first time in a long time he saw his father’s sparse hair white as precipitation.

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Messengers came – he announced in a low voice. David ben Solomon was surprised and didn’t know what to say. The incredulous smile on John’s face slowly vanished. Furrowing his brows, he continued to stand in thought.