The Toyota

Life has forever changed since October 7.

For those of us who don’t know someone personally murdered, raped, tortured, or kidnapped by Hamas, life isn’t necessarily affected on a daily basis.

I lived through 9/11; I remember the horror, the stories, the pictures. My husband’s uncle died in the towers leaving behind a wife and son; my oldest son is named after him. But, in essence, life goes on. Until it doesn’t.

There’s always something that triggers a feeling or thought. It makes sense – it’s only been seven months since the most horrific, medieval event that happened in modern times. Today it was the car parked next to me.

Toyota (not involved in October 7), photo credit: Talya Woolf

This large, white Toyota will forever represent the Hamas attack where thousands of invaders from Gaza infiltrated Israel to murder, rape, pillage, burn, and torture innocent people.

My day will go on as usual, but the reminder will just sit in the back of my head. I’ll walk around enjoying the beautiful Spring weather outside, but I’ll wonder about our hostages and returnees. I’ll help my kids with their homework, but I’ll remember that next week, my husband (and husbands of other local families) has to go to miluim and get information about the next wave of action or travel down to Gaza – some are already there.

All because our neighbors to the south decided that they simply cannot live in peace. They must raise their children with hate, that instead of learning songs about Springtime or poems about Ramadan, they must integrate ideals of suicide bombers into the curriculum, that Israel must be wiped off the map, that Palestine must be freed from the Jews, from the river to the sea, by any means necessary.

As most people do, Jews and Israelis have grown up with the basic concept of peace amongst neighbors being the ideal. Hate is a waste of energy. Murder is wrong. Live life to the fullest and find/create happiness.

But now the Toyota is a source of trauma.