From the thoughts of Avi Sorias, an ambulance driver for Ezer Mizion
“Here,” says the young man from behind me. “At the right.”
From my place at the steering wheel, I glance at his image in the mirror. He sits there, limp and helpless, his head dropped back against the seat. His voice is soft, almost a whisper.
The vehicle, a modern Ezer Mizion ambulance, pulls up by a tall building. “Are you okay?” I ask the closed eyes behind me.
The young man, shaken, sharply pulls himself up in his seat, plastering a care-free smile on his gaunt face. “No,” he replies seriously, “but only you and I have to know that.”
He thanks me profusely for the ride, takes a deep breath, and steps out to the broad sidewalk.
The street is humming with people at this midday hour: Children are coming home from school, cheery preschoolers prance along with their colorful backpacks, busy parents rush along their way. A cat darts out from between the cars, startling a high-school girl leisurely walking home.
The young man continues along the path to the building. He stops a moment and glances at a large public bulletin board displaying freshly-pasted death notices announcing the demise of a special member of the community.
He scans it silently. I watch him and feel a stab of sadness, painfully aware of the thoughts running through his mind.
“He is so young,” I think to myself. “He has four little children at home. And so very little stands between him and a notice just like this one!” Continue reading The Other Side