Maya says my Hebrew is already pretty good, and you can barely hear my accent.  But my vocabulary is a patchwork, put together without ever living in Israel, with holes that could swallow you up.  The better I speak, the more aware I become of the gaps – basic words even a child would know.  It’s like the more I learn, the less I know.

Sometimes a word slides into place, like a thorn.  Like when talking on the phone with NM; we asked how she was doing.  “Oh, the war.  But as long as you are okay, I am okay.”

מלחמה

Meanwhile, other words I can’t grip onto, like shelter, missiles, and grace.  N says he hopes I won’t need these words, but I already do.

Out in CA with NF, I learn the word for fog.  N says it’s not an important word.  Not much fog in Israel. 

ארפל

I learn the names of lots of animals, too:  fox, wolf, lamb, deer

שועל

זאב

כבש

צבי

A dear friend of mine, who once described himself to me as more prey than predator, is stationed at the northern border of Israel, defending us from Hezbollah.  Up there, he says, among the rolling hills, it’s so beautiful, you almost forget how close danger lies.

As a tourist in Israel, I went to the wailing wall.  Soldiers linked arms and sang songs from my childhood.  I tucked a prayer between the bricks.  I don’t remember what I prayed for.

Until I met N, Hebrew was just sound we used to repeat in synagogue.  I didn’t concern myself with what it meant.

HONY posts a picture of children in Iran being children.  I once dated an Israeli who was from Iran.  When his parents told him, he asked, was he the enemy? 

I don’t know the Hebrew word for enemy.

In a land far away, Maya teaches me vocabulary.  We’re hiding in the kids’ room, making bracelets.  We can hear the grown-ups shouting at each other about politics.  I shake my head and frown.  Maya says, “You’re a grown up, too.”

I learn the word for fingernails; it starts with the word for bird.  I think of watching the birds at my feeder, fighting over food and feeding each other.  I think of claws, and what they might feel like curled around my finger.

ציפורניים

Sometimes, when I start to feel I know something, N speaks, and I get nothing.  He translates, and I still don’t understand.  Like when he quotes the Torah: “the wolf shall dwell with the lamb.” (Isaiah 11:6) I’ve never heard this before, so he explains.  But, in this case, some Israelis say, better to be the wolf.

Or when I piece together the meaning of the words, “Am Yisrael chai.”  Does it mean, if Israel lives?

Driving in CA, Maya kicks her feet over my lap, and says, “I’m bored.”  There’s fog over the hills.  Maya looks at me and says something else.  I shake my head and frown.

אני מצתארת

אני לא מבינה