Waiting

Living in Israel from 2017, I had already learned from the Israelis how to be strong and resilient. While Western world lives a reality where a trifle is enough to provoke a tear, here I have learned the value of Life despite the objective difficulties. This was one of the many reasons why I fell in love with this country. Life in Israel and its daily celebration. Since October 7th, I have always and only seen the desire within the population to go on, in one way or in another, at all costs, no matter how, the important thing is to put one foot in front of the other in every situation. But the most formidable thing, the most incredible thing that I struggle to explain to those who live outside here, is how to deceive the wait. We have no idea when there will be an Iranian response, and yet we work, we walk, we go shopping, we go to the park, we have barbecues. We do not give up one step in the face of fear. Because if you are afraid, then the terrorist soul wins. And yet, even though the fear is there and it is huge, it is not given the satisfaction. And yet I continue to encounter obstacles. Obstacles that come from abroad, from people close to me and who have always supported my Aliyah, Jews and non-Jews. Every morning, the question I am asked on the phone is always the same: “Why don’t you come back?”

And I always answer “Because I live here, because I chose to live here. Israel was there when I needed to start my life over again, so now that the country needs me, I’m staying.” Obviously I will never judge those who returned to their country of origin, this is such a strong and extreme situation that only those who live here can do anything without anyone judging them. We are the ones who lived on October 7th, and only we deserve to choose what to do and where to go, without anyone from abroad coming to teach us something they never experienced.

Of course, in these hours I do not deny a tense atmosphere. An almost deafening silence. Despite the stubbornness to go on with our daily activities, we hear a sigh every now and then. None of us has the courage to watch the news. We immerse ourselves in the sea of ​​our chores so as not to go crazy. Almost as if we hope that whatever must happen, that it comes soon so we can get this waiting out of our hearts. Every morning we wake up, and we do not know if we are happy that nothing has happened or terrified by another day to live in waiting and anguish. On Facebook groups we exchange ideas on how to manage stress. I think I will start painting. Every now and then the muscles in my body contract without wanting to, these tics increasingly insistent because we know that it will happen, but we do not know how and we do not know when.

What keeps me afloat in this sea of ​​tension? The words of my grandmother. My grandmother, deported in 1943 from the Ghetto of Rome and miraculously came back from the hell of Ravensbruck camp. She used to tell me: “if Israel had existed at that time, all this would never have happened.”

These are the words that are enough for me to make me stay. These are the words of those who would have wanted to live in Israel, but Israel was not existing at the time.

These are the words of those who deserved Israel, and were not able to live it. These are the words that act as a shield for me while waiting for the enemy to act, caressing my fear and the heaviness of waiting.