I open my eyes and I am confused.
Normally, the first prayers I utter in the morning, before even putting a foot on the floor, include, “And please let Ran come home today.” But this morning—on Tuesday, January 27—I stop.
Each day, when I come into my living room on the way to the kitchen, I first go out onto my porch to change the number wheel reflecting the days it has been since my former life stopped—marking the number of days, since October 7, 2023, that hostages have been held in Gaza. Today, I do not need to change the numbers. I have to take the numbers down.
