A Suicide Bombing

I was just informed that a bomb went off in Tel Aviv. A suicide attack on an old bus station. The attacker is dead, of course and although there are no deaths, for 16 people there lives have changed forever. G-d only knows how injured they are. I don’t know how I feel about all of this. My first reaction was to ask one of the Israeli soldiers what they thought. George told me he already knew for about 15 minutes. This is what they do. He lives in Tel Aviv like much of the country and when ever something happens their families instantly call one another. I just called my parents to let them know that I am okay. I cried a little bit. I seem to be taking it harder then most people. After telling their parents they are okay, they are talking about all the fun they are having. I left a message and started to cry. Why? Because I am sad for my parents who are now going to be worried about me. This is one of the hardest things I have had to do. Similar to the calls I had to make and receive on 9-11, I can’t imagine feeling like that every time a bomb goes off. George doesn’t. He told me he is numb. Better a small attack without any deaths then a big one. But who knows. I look around my bus and everyone is smiling. The tour goes on. The journey continues. Bedouin tents on the right, talking, laughing, Israeli rap on the stereo. I can’t get over that I just called my parents to let then know that I’m not dead. Is this an individual act? Another Antifada? Is this only the beginning? Will our trip change? Will I stay longer? Only g-d knows. Ok I feel better.