SPOILER ALERT: I'm not saying anything here that you haven't read in a million other blogs and posts. But writing it out helps me deal with it. So this one is really for me.
--------------------------------------
I knew when we made aliyah that we would be living in a country where everything revolves around the army.
After all, everyone serves (well, almost everyone, but that's a topic for another writer, not me) in some capacity. Every single man and woman I see here in Modiin has served in the army, and every single boy and girl I see will do the same.
In our everyday life - post office, mall, grocery - we see soldiers with their rifles slung across their backs doing everyday things. They are handsome/beautiful, strong, and my heart melts because they are our Jewish boys and girls. Our children. Babies. Going off to defend our country, to be trained to kill if need be, but also to be full of mercy and caring. Show me a picture of a soldier putting on tefillin and I weep. It is possibly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
And then they get sent off to battle sites. And then they die.
I see the faces of their parents and siblings and grandparents at the funerals of these young heroes and I can't even find a word for what it makes me feel.
We in Modiin have only experienced three sirens so far, and I thought I handled them well. We even took a "selfie" in the safe room. We heard the boom overhead, and knew that a rocket had been intercepted by our Iron Dome.
That was last week when it was just a rocket war. Now it's a ground war. And the battle site is about a 1.5 hour drive from my house. Now I literally jump at strange sounds, and think every whine of a truck coming down the street is a siren. I can't imagine feeling at ease ever again.
In America, "war" was a foreign idea to me - it was always somewhere else, and being fought by soldiers whom I admired but had no connection with. Only those who enlisted voluntarily would fight, and it was rare that that was someone from my circle of acquaintances and family.
Here it's all not just people you know and see - it's your family. Every face of a soldier killed in action could be the face of my child or grandchild. You can't help but feel it. It is in the family and it is raw, but raw is OK. Raw is real. It is not a game, it is not over there, it is right here.
--------------------------------------
I knew when we made aliyah that we would be living in a country where everything revolves around the army.
After all, everyone serves (well, almost everyone, but that's a topic for another writer, not me) in some capacity. Every single man and woman I see here in Modiin has served in the army, and every single boy and girl I see will do the same.
In our everyday life - post office, mall, grocery - we see soldiers with their rifles slung across their backs doing everyday things. They are handsome/beautiful, strong, and my heart melts because they are our Jewish boys and girls. Our children. Babies. Going off to defend our country, to be trained to kill if need be, but also to be full of mercy and caring. Show me a picture of a soldier putting on tefillin and I weep. It is possibly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
And then they get sent off to battle sites. And then they die.
I see the faces of their parents and siblings and grandparents at the funerals of these young heroes and I can't even find a word for what it makes me feel.
We in Modiin have only experienced three sirens so far, and I thought I handled them well. We even took a "selfie" in the safe room. We heard the boom overhead, and knew that a rocket had been intercepted by our Iron Dome.
That was last week when it was just a rocket war. Now it's a ground war. And the battle site is about a 1.5 hour drive from my house. Now I literally jump at strange sounds, and think every whine of a truck coming down the street is a siren. I can't imagine feeling at ease ever again.
In America, "war" was a foreign idea to me - it was always somewhere else, and being fought by soldiers whom I admired but had no connection with. Only those who enlisted voluntarily would fight, and it was rare that that was someone from my circle of acquaintances and family.
Here it's all not just people you know and see - it's your family. Every face of a soldier killed in action could be the face of my child or grandchild. You can't help but feel it. It is in the family and it is raw, but raw is OK. Raw is real. It is not a game, it is not over there, it is right here.
No comments:
Post a Comment