The saga of Wednesday October 2, 2024 to Saturday October 5, 2024 moving from Caesarea, Israel to Caesarea, Israel
The morning before Rosh Hashanah began with an abrupt wake up siren. Everyone went down to the mamad, well except for my father. He was asleep and couldn’t be bothered. Thankfully, all was okay. The boys spent part of the day learning about Rosh Hashana and creating decorations for the house. With all of the excitement the night before and our travels, the boys spent the rest of the day relaxing, swimming, and doing some screen time. They were in heaven, and I finally realized how exhausted and in need of some recuperation I was.
Overall, Rosh Hashanah was lovely. My parents daven/pray with a lovely community in someone’s home. The first day felt like any other Rosh Hashanah, except that the rabbi of my parents’ community was missing because he had been called up for reserve duty. Sadly, absences due to reserve duty has become so common for so many communities, families, and businesses since October 7. The individual and collective resilience here is a marvel. Things were a bit different on the second day.
Second day Rosh Hashana began like any other. My mother and father left for shul/synagogue early because they wanted to hear a friend lead shacharit/the morning service. We were moving slowly due to some sleepy children. Chaim and I decided to split up. The twins and I left before the others. Halfway to shul we passed my mother, who was on her way home to do some food prep. A siren went off five minutes later. Iran was attacking again.
The twins and I were one-hundred meters from shul. I was worried they would close the doors and we wouldn’t be able to get inside the house. I grabbed Shai’s and Matanel’s hands and ran with them as fast as we could. Everyone went downstairs toward the mamad. However, because there were far more people than the mamad could hold, only children and a very calm dog were allowed in the room. The door was left open, the women congregated right outside in the next safest area, and the men continued praying nearby. One little girl, maybe seven years old, ran in shrieking repeatedly, “I knew there’d be an azaka/siren I knew it!”
Meanwhile, my mom, who had knee surgery this past July, was still on her way home. There is no way she was running anywhere and the walk from shul to her house affords no real protection other than some olive or carob trees. When outside without a bunker or obvious form of protection available, the next best thing to do is lie on the ground, hands covering head. My mom was not getting on the ground. Instead, she did what anyone else in this situation might do. She found a larger tree, stood under it, put her machzor/high holiday prayer book over her head, and watched the interception happen over the water. A few minutes later she continued on her way home as if it was another normal day. Shortly after, Chaim arrived with Amichai and Eitan. They confirmed my mom had made it home safely. Relieved, we finished services and returned home.
This year Rosh Hashana went right into Shabbat, which meant a three-day holiday. My Uncle Levi and cousin Anaelle, and her dog Elliott, joined us for Shabbat. The boys were ecstatic. They love Uncle Levi’s stories, Anaelle’s attention, and Elliott’s calm demeanor. Fortunately, Shabbat passed uneventfully, and we were able to enjoy our time together.
