Anna, day 4

12 November 2019. I woke up early to get the children ready for school and kindergarten. I could hear the deep rumbling of war that crept upon us during the night. The Gaza Strip is 4.7 km from our home at Kibbutz Be'eri. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is the story of our life. We were ordered to stay at home. Once "RED COLOR" siren blares I have 15 seconds to get my children to safety from an incoming rocket. I hear their high pitched whistles. Explosions. The house shakes. Lockdown again, just like a month ago, and a month before that, and one before that. 2 years of war, to cease fire, to war. WAR. We hardly left the house. The children were scared. We woke up each morning and took a picture of their alter-ego super-hero how-do-we-feel-today. Escaping for a brief moment, the violent terrifying world just outside our window.

We left home. South deep into the desert we went. Far from the rockets and sirens and bombs and fear and smoke. I hope to sleep well tonight under the stars. The sky is cloudy and the sand so white and smooth. Sunshine. Anna my daughter closes her eyes and tells me she hears nothing but the wind. I am heartbroken. She askes never to come back to what we left behind. I tell her to have hope it will be over. I promise we will return only when it is done. We both know there will be a next time. This is one moment of stillness. The first moment of inner calm after what seems like a lifetime.