It started as a regular tennis lesson in the Tel Aviv's Park ha Yarkon. A magical complex with ten or fifteen well-lit courts and elegant party place among the tall palm trees and the amusement park in the background. All the courts were full with students of all ages and group sizes. Our daughter was one out of two girls and six boys aged 9-10 with a teacher and an assistant. Given the late after-work hour (6-7pm), few of the parents were there waiting for their kids or taking the lessons themselves. I, as always, was using this time to play with our baby on the grass under the palm trees. She was holding my hand and pulling me to run in circles. Suddenly, 20 min into the lesson, the siren went off. Not the loud one as in the second world war movies and not the low and steady one as we hear every Friday from Bnei Brak, but the up-and-down dull one. Before I figured out what was going on, the teacher told all the kids to lie down in the middle of the court and cover their heads with their hands. Few moms ran to join the kids in the court. I grabbed the baby and rushed next to my older daughter. Surprisingly kids were not scared and thought it all must be a part of some training. The baby was trying to escape my enclosure and crawl away. In a minute we heard a distant boom and sirens stopped. One mom grabbed her cell and frantically started calling her kids who were left at home alone. She then grabbed her daughter and left hugging my back on the way as we exited the courts, like saying "It will be OK, newcomer.". The rest of the parents stayed and called their families to check on or share the experience while kids continued the lesson as usual. A few minutes later my cell posted "Ha-Aretz" newspaper alert that sirens went off in Tel Aviv. Then my mom called and my sister-in-law. I sent an instant message to my husband who was travelling that we just lived through our first war siren. In this bright court light with so many people around it looked more exciting than scary. Back at home we found my dad glued to the TV. He told me that he just served himself dinner when the siren went off. He contemplated for a second but then decided that warm food and hungry stomach can not wait.
The day before my cell-phone posted a news alert that Israeli Defense Forces assassinated the main Hamas mastermind, Ahmed al-Jabari. Almost immediately a non-stop rocket fire escalated from Gaza and all large people gatherings (schools, weddings, outdoor birthday parties) were cancelled in the nearby to Gaza areas. Rocket fire to Shderot, Ashkelon and Ashdod has happened a few times in the past months already so it wasn't very unusual. But then my mother-in-law sent an instant message advising to buy water supplies and I started to think through the assassination news.
I called my cousin's wife from Ashdod and offered her to bring her daughter over tomorrow. She told me that she happens to be at the wedding in Rehovot with my mother and that she is going to stay at home tomorrow with her kids and her mom. Her husband, my cousin, went to work in Ashkelon the next day, passing through 3 sirens on his way, then after 15 more sirens his factory got closed for the day and he returned home.
Our son was at his swim practice in Hertzlya and learned about the rocket only later. He called asap, ensuring that everyone is safe and was on his phone all evening discussing the situation with his classmates and swim team friends. He told me that he was calming down a girl from his school who was from the South but lived in the boarding school in Tel Aviv. They all were in the bomb shelters.
Our neighbor stopped by and brought me keys from her house. Unlike our old-built house, they have a bomb-shelter room inside theirs and she invited us to run over no matter whether they are at home or not. Another option would be to run to the town shelter that is located one street away but there is no chance we could reach it in 1.5 mins, and this is how long it takes for the rocket to reach Tel Aviv from Gaza.
Our son demanded that we should prepare an emergency bag and I asked him to list everything he thinks should go into it. He did a great job: water, pocket knife, food, baby diapers and food, flashlights, money. I packed it and left next to the front door. Later on my dad added a giant plastic bag full of garbage there and we joked that we should be very careful to grab the right bags if we ran. I also mused that kids should put on their prettiest PJs and wore sport clothes myself for the night. Despite these preparations, we all decided that if something happens in the middle of the night the safest would be to gather in the master bedroom and lie face down like we did on the tennis courts. Before sleep to calm the kids down from all the news, I let them watch extra TV and our daughter was so surprised and excited that she muttered: "I don't mind the sirens going off every day." The night was quiet, aside from baby teething and awake a few times.
School was open the next day but the planned school-wide ceremony got cancelled. Life went as usual on Friday mornings. Another siren went off soon after lunch and we all rushed to the bedroom covering our heads with our hands. I stood on my knees hiding our baby under me and she started crying scared from the dark under my body and sweater flaps. Again, a min or two, a distant boom and sirens stopped. Relatives called as well as our son swim teammates who live in the Northern areas inviting us/him to come over. Someone told that the rocket fell in the fields close to his school. In the afternoon he left for a swim meet in the North that was going on as planned. I took both daughters to the neighborhood park that was all empty. The weather was magnificent: autumn warm and quiet; air slightly yellow from the setting sun. A few men in variously colored kippas went by to the local synagogue. It seemed so close to Paradise, so peaceful. Back at home I made the Tomato Basil soup from the New England Soup Factory cookbook and we watched two movies occasionally checking the news.
The day before my cell-phone posted a news alert that Israeli Defense Forces assassinated the main Hamas mastermind, Ahmed al-Jabari. Almost immediately a non-stop rocket fire escalated from Gaza and all large people gatherings (schools, weddings, outdoor birthday parties) were cancelled in the nearby to Gaza areas. Rocket fire to Shderot, Ashkelon and Ashdod has happened a few times in the past months already so it wasn't very unusual. But then my mother-in-law sent an instant message advising to buy water supplies and I started to think through the assassination news.
I called my cousin's wife from Ashdod and offered her to bring her daughter over tomorrow. She told me that she happens to be at the wedding in Rehovot with my mother and that she is going to stay at home tomorrow with her kids and her mom. Her husband, my cousin, went to work in Ashkelon the next day, passing through 3 sirens on his way, then after 15 more sirens his factory got closed for the day and he returned home.
Our son was at his swim practice in Hertzlya and learned about the rocket only later. He called asap, ensuring that everyone is safe and was on his phone all evening discussing the situation with his classmates and swim team friends. He told me that he was calming down a girl from his school who was from the South but lived in the boarding school in Tel Aviv. They all were in the bomb shelters.
Our neighbor stopped by and brought me keys from her house. Unlike our old-built house, they have a bomb-shelter room inside theirs and she invited us to run over no matter whether they are at home or not. Another option would be to run to the town shelter that is located one street away but there is no chance we could reach it in 1.5 mins, and this is how long it takes for the rocket to reach Tel Aviv from Gaza.
Our son demanded that we should prepare an emergency bag and I asked him to list everything he thinks should go into it. He did a great job: water, pocket knife, food, baby diapers and food, flashlights, money. I packed it and left next to the front door. Later on my dad added a giant plastic bag full of garbage there and we joked that we should be very careful to grab the right bags if we ran. I also mused that kids should put on their prettiest PJs and wore sport clothes myself for the night. Despite these preparations, we all decided that if something happens in the middle of the night the safest would be to gather in the master bedroom and lie face down like we did on the tennis courts. Before sleep to calm the kids down from all the news, I let them watch extra TV and our daughter was so surprised and excited that she muttered: "I don't mind the sirens going off every day." The night was quiet, aside from baby teething and awake a few times.
School was open the next day but the planned school-wide ceremony got cancelled. Life went as usual on Friday mornings. Another siren went off soon after lunch and we all rushed to the bedroom covering our heads with our hands. I stood on my knees hiding our baby under me and she started crying scared from the dark under my body and sweater flaps. Again, a min or two, a distant boom and sirens stopped. Relatives called as well as our son swim teammates who live in the Northern areas inviting us/him to come over. Someone told that the rocket fell in the fields close to his school. In the afternoon he left for a swim meet in the North that was going on as planned. I took both daughters to the neighborhood park that was all empty. The weather was magnificent: autumn warm and quiet; air slightly yellow from the setting sun. A few men in variously colored kippas went by to the local synagogue. It seemed so close to Paradise, so peaceful. Back at home I made the Tomato Basil soup from the New England Soup Factory cookbook and we watched two movies occasionally checking the news.
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