We thought we’d be safe in the North, at home.
Weekday clothes, Shabbos clothes. Summer? Winter? I forget where we’re up to.
The last seven months have been a haze of packing and packing and packing. I can’t even say I’ve ever properly unpacked.
There’s a war raging in Gaza. A prolonged, difficult, impossible war. A war where we try to decapitate a monster that grows new heads every time we turn around.
And yet. The south of Israel shows small signs of regrowth after the evil razed it, razed us to the ground. Families are returning to Ashkelon, to Sderot, even to the Gaza Envelope.
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