The sounds on the streets that came wafting through the windows didn’t feel okay at all

Elka

MY eyes fluttered open, and for the first few moments I didn’t know where I was. It was only when Leiba rolled over and her hand smacked me in the face that I remembered I was sharing a mattress on the floor with her. Squinting in the early morning light, I could make out the figures of my neighbor’s daughters, fast asleep on their beds. As quietly as I could, I rolled off the mattress and went to wash my hands. Dovid was sitting at the table in the kitchen learning the parshah quietly to himself as the rest of the house slept.

“Dovid? How long have you been up?” I asked in a low voice, coming to stand next to him.

He stopped what he was doing and looked up. “I couldn’t sleep much,” he replied, “with the noise in the streets. And after yesterday, the scene of that mob just keeps playing over and over in my head.”

I sat down across from Dovid, watching him learn. The quiet from outside didn’t seem calm and comforting like early morning quiet usually does. Instead, it seemed… ominous, foreboding. Like if it could speak, the things it would tell us would not be things we would want to hear.

“Elka?” a sleepy voice called.

I looked up. “Leiba,” I responded, motioning to her to come closer and lifting her onto my lap. Leaning forward, I buried my nose in her soft, dark hair and snuggled her close. She leaned back against me, and I could tell she was taking as much comfort from me as I was from her. “Don’t worry, Leiba’la,” I whispered into her hair, “it will all be okay.”