Amos Oz - A Perfect Peace

She no longer washed all day long with her bitter almond soap. Her body had its own special smell now, the smell of ripe pears. She no longer watched the chess games. Or made tea for her men. Or told them not to be sad. Sometimes she would spread a clean diaper on one of their shoulders and give them the baby to walk around. She herself would lie down on the couch with her knees up, indifferent to the plunging slip that bared her thighs, looking at whoever happened to be holding her baby as one might look at a seascape or distant mountains. Perhaps as inanimate nature looks at us.

Yonatan and Azariah built a dog house for Tia in the garden, her home for as long as Na'ama was small. Inside, Hava had become undisputed boss of the household. Whenever she told Rimona what she must and mustn't do, Rimona would solemnly reply, "Fine. Thank you. That's fine."

Hava could not do enough to make life easier for all of them. She was full of wild energy. Once she went off to Haifa for two days to furnish a new apartment for Amos and his young wife. Amos was rarely home on leave from the army because the situation on the borders had worsened and crack units were almost continually in a state of full alert. As soon as she got back from Haifa, Hava sewed four nightdresses for her granddaughter and knit her a pair of woolen booties and a sweater. When Azariah grew delirious with fever from a throat infection, she took him to Srulik's bedroom without even asking the secretary's permission and nursed him like a baby. When Yonatan broke a finger in the tractor shed, she took him to the hospital and never left his side until it was set in a cast. Once, when Rimona suggested that she ease up on herself, Hava broke into uproarious laughter and proceeded to take down all the window screens and scrub them one by one. In late May, both Yoni and Azariah were mobilized. Soon after, the war predicted by Azariah broke out. Israel won and pushed forward its front lines. Etan R. was killed on the Golan Heights. His two girlfriends went on living in his room by the swimming pool. Yonatan's reconnaissance unit fought in the Sinai. On the sixth and last day of combat, he took over its command from Chupka, who had been torn to shreds by a direct artillery hit. Azariah, serving in a front-line grease pit, worked around the clock. Major Zlotkin called him a miracle and promoted him to sergeant as soon as the war was over. On their discharge, Hava baked them a cake. Srulik threw a small welcome-home party for the sons who returned from the battlefield. Yonatan and Azariah discovered when they came back that the baby had learned how to turn over. Soon she would be crawling on the straw mat. "Look at her. She's laughing," said Rimona. "It's because she understands," said Hava.

If anyone dared say a slighting word about her happy trio, Hava would bare her fangs like an old she-wolf.

"You, Paula, are in no position to talk. Not with a daughter like yours, a nebbish who's been through two divorces in two years."

The next day, however, she would apologize. "Please forgive me. I lost my temper yesterday. I went too far. I'm terribly sorry."

In his journal, late one night, Srulik wrote:

The earth is indifferent. The sky is mysterious. The sea is a lasting menace. And the plants and the migrating birds. The stone is as silent as death which has dominion over all. Cruelty is in?ach of us. Each of us is a bit of a murderer, if not of others, of himself. Love is beyond me still, perhaps it has always been. Pain is a fact. But a thing or two we can do, and since we can, we must. As for the rest, who knows? Let's wait and see. Instead of continuing this entry, I think I'll play my flute tonight.

1970

1976–1981

Born in Jerusalem in 1939, AMOS OZ is the author of numerous works of fiction and essays. His international awards include the Prix Femina, the Israel Prize, and the Frankfurt Peace Prize, and his books have been translated into more than thirty languages. He lives in Israel.