700 Days
Of hoping against hope
700 days.
Days that stretch out with no clear end in sight.
700 days of missing. Of anger. Of uncertainty.
700 days of trying to imagine what it’s like in dark and dirty tunnels. Trying not to imagine the beatings and starvation. While actually hoping they are still alive to endure them.
700 days of watching innocent parents hurting and fighting for their innocent children. Spouses. Siblings.
700 days of thinking back to the first one. How it started. Why it started. The reasons that made it possible. All of them.
700 days of watching the world. Watching European leaders. Watching the U.N. Watching shades of history threatening to repeat themselves. Some are repeating themselves.
700 days of not understanding the strategy. The long-term strategy.
700 days of walks, marches and protests. Participating in the ones we believe in. Horrified at the language brandished by those we oppose.
700 days of feeling helpless. Of doing the things we can do. And still feeling helpless.
Think about the longest, most painful day you’ve ever experienced in your life. When you didn’t know how you’d get through it — or if you’d get through it… 700 of those kinds of days for the loves ones of every hostage.
The days add up to a sum. But each new one is really an exponential product of all those that preceded. For families missing their beloved, every 24 hours is an emotional marathon. Followed by another. And another…
700 days of hoping against hope.
700 days.
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