Every Summer

12.01.21

“This story was not written about any specific person, but it could have been written about many fathers of many sons and daughters in this land.” A clip by Sivan Kidron – A Face. The Day. A Memory a project for Memorial Day.

“Every Summer” is based on the story “My Sea Turtle” by Ruth Richter

Creator: Sivan Kidron

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYqHb0iYfPw

I came across Ruth Richter’s story “My Sea Turtle” by accident and it moved me immediately. When I called her to get more details, I found out that the story was fictional – at least in her reality. Nonetheless, the connection between the Israeli girl and her father and between both of them and nature was moving and wouldn’t leave me. I connected to the way in which nature compensates in some small way for what was taken from the girl or at least remembers him and I connected to the very Israeli individual-family-nature triangle. 

From my point of view, the story emerges from the Israeli consciousness. It wasn’t written about anyone in particular but could be about many fathers of many sons and daughters in this land. It reminds one of the so very delicate bubble that is liable to burst and sometimes does. I chose a very fine line, the light colors of moonlight and the subtle changes of light and shadow in order to convey a feeling of ephemeral memory – the treasured memory of closeness on the beach that glitters but which can also disappear in a moment. 

Sivan Kidron

Sea Turtles, by Ruth Richter


Every summer we would go to the beach, my father and I, to watch the big sea turtles come up on the beach to lay their eggs. We spent the night on the beach spread out on one of the golden hills, awash in moonlight. We felt the contact of the cool sand and smelled the unique salty smell of the sea. One night, when we had almost given up on the turtles and had fallen asleep, they suddenly emerged from the sea. Like dark masses, the turtles came out the sea and onto the beach. After laying their eggs, they dragged themselves heavily onto the shell-filled sand that touches the waterline. My dad was a nature teacher on our moshav and he was researching the chances of the sea turtles’ survival.
 
Every night, we would return to the sea to see if the turtles had hatched yet. After two months, when the little turtles were as wide as my hand, they hatched and started to head for the water. My dad quickly marked them with paint that he sprayed on their backs. I especially liked the marking on one little turtle which was similar to a cabbage leaf. I followed her as she returned to the water and was swallowed up by the waves together with the rest of the turtles. My dad told me that in a few years that turtle would return to our beach in order to lay eggs for the first time. And perhaps I will encounter it one night and will be able to identify her according to the unique mark on her back. My father was killed in the Yom Kippur War. For six years I waited for the sea turtles as I had done with him. I waited patiently, with longing, to see the dark shapes in the sea that are coming onto the beach. One night, when I had almost given up and dozed off, a large sea turtle with a cabbage leaf on her back came up onto the beach.  

 

עוד בבית אבי חי