The Things I Carry and the Things That Carry Me

We’ve all been profoundly changed by October 7th. “You look tired,” people tell me. “Well, I haven’t slept in x [fill in the number as the day count since October 7th rises] days,” I respond and either they can relate or they can’t. I don’t care either way. I care too deeply about too many things that matter more, which perhaps is why I’ve found myself struggling just to make polite conversation. 

People I know casually and those I know socially greet me as if it wasn’t still October 7th. “How are you doing?” they ask. I’m meant to respond, as one does, by saying, “Good and you?” But I’m not good and I’m not ok and I frankly don’t know how anyone is. And if they’re somehow ok, I secretly think something is wrong with them. I don’t say so though because even now that political correctness has eroded, at least where Jews are concerned, polite conversation is still apparently a thing.

“Day by Day,” I started to say as a catchphrase because it wasn’t dishonest and still it was mostly polite. And some days, even that was too difficult so I started to wear my words on my wrist. 

A couple of years ago, one of my children had an emergency appendectomy and a friend brought her a gift, a bracelet that said, “Strength”. She explained how someone gave her this when she needed it the most. I love words and I love gifts that are truly personal so I searched for the website that gave my daughter ‘Strength’ and I custom ordered ‘Day by Day’ for myself. I was willing to try just about anything to get me through this war. 

My heart is on the front lines. My people are in the tunnels. I am powerless to protect my children in Israel. “Day by Day,” I remind myself and when I forget, my bracelet reminds me. A good friend, with children also literally on the front lines, commented on the succinctness of the message and the truth of it so I ordered one for her too. Now we’re in this strange club together. 

Beginning in November 2023, like many, I started wearing a ‘Bring them Back’ dog tag. Months later, I switched to a silver-plated ribbon charm that I bought from the Hostage Forum. I hesitated before buying it because of the implications. Was I resigning myself to the fact that this wasn’t near over? Was my investment in this charm a statement of a lack of faith? Or was it a statement of pride? Perhaps it depends on the day. It feels right to wear it. I won’t take it off. 

Then, when my daughter finally got out of miluim, she brought a darkness with her. Still, she insisted on finding presents for her little sisters back home when I flew to Israel to check in on her. While wandering through empty shops on empty streets in a touristy part of Jerusalem, we spotted an אמא (Ema) necklace. It was in one of those 10 shekel (2+ USD) pop-up stores. 

I always wondered about women that wore necklaces or shirts that said Mom. Wouldn’t they rather wear one that said artist or writer or doctor or athlete or anything else that spoke to their personal abilities or accomplishments or passions or talents? In a rare lighthearted moment in that dark time my daughter said, knowing my strong distaste for ‘mom’ gifts, “Turn around. Don’t look.” And she bought the necklace for me. We both laughed as I put it on. 

The chain was cheap, well the whole shop was. And then I began to think about what it meant at that moment. it wasn’t a mom necklace, it was an אמא necklace. It was Hebrew, my ancestral tongue. It was an expression of my Judaism and my connection to Israel. I, אמא, had flown to Israel multiple times in a war to stand with my children and the Jewish people. I אמא raised children who have chosen to serve Am Yisrael. And so I removed the industrial looking chain, replacing it with one I made, but kept the charm. I don’t wear a mom necklace. I wear an אמא warrior one. 

And last, at the risk of sounding strange, I carry the picture of Noa Argamani that sat next to my Shabbat candles for months. In October 2023 I began lighting a single extra candle for all the hostages. A couple of months later, in my community, we all took a single hostage photo home so each of the hostages would have special prayers in their names. Raising Chinese Jewish daughters, I felt a special connection to Noa so I chose her to focus on. When Noa was rescued, I removed it from my shelf just before the next Shabbat and thought about what to do with it. Soon after, I tucked it into the pocket of the Moleskine notebook that I carry everywhere. And when that notebook was finished, I transferred the picture of Noa to my new one and there it remains. I still need it. Maybe one day I won’t, but for now it’s a reminder that miracles still can happen and that hope is still alive. 

And so day 400 begins, I check in with my children in Israel. One is in class and two are on base. I pack my notebook in my bag and put my bracelet and necklaces on. 

Day by Day is the only advice that I can give.