Whistling in the dark

August 27, 2008 - 8:14 AM by David

It’s been a year and a half since my daughter began her two-year obligatory army service, and was placed in the Israel Police. Sure has gone by quickly for me.

For her, I’m not so sure. While she’s accepted her responsibilities with poise and a remarkable sense of maturity, it’s clear that she’s mentally tearing the calendar page away a day at a time as her long countdown begins to her release.

We’ve been lucky, because her patrol route and home base are relatively close to home, enabling her to sleep in her own bed, instead of staying in a police barracks.

It’s become routine in the house – Adina returning home at 5:30 am after a 12-hour all-night shift, and sleeping all day. If we’re home, we try to keep things quiet, but in the summer, with the younger kids on the TV and computer constantly, it’s not always possible (not to mention the remodeling taking place by our downstairs neighbor).

And when she’s on a day shift, she gets home in the early evening, takes a nap, showers, and heads out to see her boyfriend or her high school friends. We’re happy to be her welcome berth, providing her with food, shelter… and privacy.

Occasionally she’ll tell us about something that happened on her shift – which involves usual police stuff like burglaries, roadblocks to check for drunk drivers, and sometimes, heading into Arab villages to back up army troops on a mission. But usually, she just says everything’s fine, and doesn’t go into detail.

That leaves us with a false sense of security that she’s leaving to go to work like any of us, to sit at a desk or computer – not that she’s leaving home and entering a danger zone where her life or well being could possibly be put in jeopardy at any time.

Once in a while, on the rare occasions we’re both at home and not preoccupied with human doing stuff, I tell her I’m proud of her, and appreciate the sacrifice she’s making for her country, when she’s at an age when many kids – at least in the US – are more focused on where the next keg party is going to be. On Shabbat, during the prayer for the soldiers defending Israel, I put in a good word for her, and ask that she return home safely from all her tasks which put her in harm’s way.

Then the new week starts, and those thoughts return to back part of my mind once again. Still, when I hear her roll in at 5:30 am, I roll over in my bed, and in hazy between sleep and awake state, I pretend to smile to myself.

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