Even contemplating writing about this war has been difficult, as everyone is exhausted from sirens, repeated runs to shelters, persistent worry, and deep uncertainty. It is striking that, on some level, daily life continues with one eye constantly searching for the nearest shelter. In Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, cafés and shops remain open, although childcare facilities and schools are still closed. Many people have returned to work unless they have young children at home. Hospitals continue to function, with underground operating and medical facilities, and the use of medication for anxiety has increased by approximately 40%. This does not suggest that life is normal, nor that we are safe; rather, it reflects the emergence of a new, chaotic normal that can shift within minutes, if not seconds.

The country has been effective in detecting incoming missiles and issuing targeted warnings to specific regions, advising residents to prepare to seek shelter even before sirens sound. The time available to reach a shelter varies depending on geography. For those in the north, it is a matter of seconds. In my neighborhood, families often wait outside shelters with their children in anticipation of the siren. Once it sounds, the outcome is a matter of luck or probability. While many missiles are intercepted, there is the danger of falling shrapnel, which has already claimed lives. When interceptions fail, direct hits offer little to no chance of survival. Improved cluster missiles present an increased risk as they disperse hundreds of “bomblets” over large areas. Tel Aviv and central Israel, where there is less open space for projectiles to land, have borne the brunt of the Iranian attacks.

Last night, a friend in Tel Aviv had to seek shelter three times during the night. In the north, towns have faced sustained missile barrages from Hezbollah in Lebanon. A friend there, together with her five-year-old daughter, has not left their home since the war began.

In Jerusalem, we experience on average one siren per day, although we often hear additional explosions in the surrounding area. There have been two instances in which shrapnel landed relatively close to my home. Images from these incidents have heightened my awareness of the danger posed by shrapnel, large flaming fragments of metal, and have made me more diligent about going to the communal shelter. These shelters, for those of us fortunate enough to have them nearby, are quite basic. They foster a diminishing sense of camaraderie, where neighbors come to know one another and occasionally share wine or whisky; however, even this small comfort is beginning to wear thin.

One of my principal sources of stress has been the relocation of my son and his family, with their six-month-old and a four-and-a-half-year-old, to their mother’s home two blocks away. They normally live in Tel Aviv, where the nearest shelter is the distance of a football field away. Balancing my desire to be helpful with the challenges I experience regarding their relaxed approach to parenting has not been easy. We have all had to readjust expectations, and, fortunately, they have gone to my daughter-in-law’s sister for a couple of days.

Maintaining a sense of optimism remains difficult, particularly with no clear end to this mess in sight. It is challenging to discern what is ‘really happening’, and sifting through the news adds to anxiety. I will not address the political dimensions of this war; however, it appears that much of the Israeli public either supports it or views it as necessary. Personally, I remain skeptical that it will bring about any positive change in the Middle East, or improve Israel’s standing or that of the Jewish community globally. Even under attack, the scale of suffering and destruction in Lebanon and Iran is difficult to justify. It is worth recalling that peace with Egypt and Jordan was ultimately achieved through diplomacy, an approach that now seems increasingly fading in the modern world.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)