The Letter Shin (ש)
A/N: The Hebrew for daddy is Aba, for mommy is Ima. The suffix –lev literally means 'heart', but in this case it is something akin to 'dear sister'. The handwritten shin looks a bit different, so that is why it is described with a loop.
Today we had to learn to write the letter shin. "Start at the bottom, go up, and loop!" My teacher's voice carries all the way to the back of the room where I sit. I have already finished filling the pages of my workbook with the letter, and I begin to draw a picture of my Ima and my older sister to the side of the big shin at the top. My sister is so pretty. Zaya is the best, better than all those boys she practices throwing and shooting with. My sister is smart, and she already taught me to read and write in Hebrew and Arabic, and now she's teaching me English.
As my teacher babbles on about how shin can sound like 'sh' or 's'. I put the finishing touches on my drawing. My Ima and Ziva-lev are standing on the beach in Tel-Aviv where we went last summer when Zaya had three days off of training. She trained anyways, like she always does.
My big sister is thirteen now, and sometimes she doesn't walk me home after school like she used to. Sometimes she doesn't come home for a few days, but I know my sister will always come back. She'd never leave without saying goodbye. I think Aba tells her to go away. I don't like it when she leaves. The house is dark and scary, because Ari is gone, too. But he doesn't come back anymore. I miss my sister. I don't like it when she talks to Aba in Russian and I can't understand them. She always looks sad, even if she tries to be happy. I always ask her what Aba said, and she always tells me "Do not worry, Tali-lev. I am fine."
I know she is lying. I want to do something to help her, but Aba won't let me.
I just wish he'd stop sending her away.