Friday morning thoughts

 A while ago, one of my very good friends here in Blogland asked me how my English, which was so bad at first, improved so much. I told him that I learn languages ​​quickly, and it's true. I learned German as a child just by listening to conversations between my mother and grandmother, and that's how I also learned French and even Yiddish from neighbors' conversations on the street. There were many Holocaust survivors among the neighbors at the time, and almost everyone spoke Yiddish when they didn't want children to understand. I understood.                                                                                                                            From here I also moved on to thinking about how goals change, there were times here in blogland when I was looking for security and support. During times when it was difficult here (back then I didn't know it could be even harder), every kind word gave me the illusion of protection and I looked for it, although it was only words, but it was also something. At the time, there were two strong and sturdy American men who were very supportive of my blog and who I was, until one of them wrote to me that he could no longer withstand the attacks of the trolls that came to him because of me and he disappeared, and the other stopped writing for his own reasons. The heroic men left me alone in the battle.                                        When the really tough times came on October 23rd I noticed that there were people who couldn’t operate in a vacuum and needed someone real to vent their anger, opinions and feelings to, and they turned that on me, as if I really had any influence on what was happening around me.

Someone even asked in their post if they could ask me to tell our government to do all sorts of things.

I became more cautious and confused. Old friends disappeared, but new and wonderful people arrived, and for that I am grateful.                                                                                                                                               I'm still very cautious and also busy with this strange adventure called survival, a kind of real-time reality show. I don't drive at night because you never know if there will be an alarm, about once every two days I run to the shelter, if I finish my shower at the time I like I see it as some kind of small victory or miracle,                                                                                                                                             I recognize an adventurous part of myself that tells itself what interesting and crazy times we live in, but inside me there is also a cowardly woman who is equally frightened by the sounds of mice at night.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 A picture of my daughter, from a long time ago.