The thing is, the war didn't exactly reach my city. Just a few miles outside of Tel Aviv, we were close enough to hear the boom of the Iron Dome anti-rocket batteries as their missiles did their job to stop the deadly Hamas rockets from getting through, but far enough away that the sirens didn't reach us. While hundreds of thousands of people in the south sat in bomb shelters, while my husband and son had to stand by the side of the road when the sirens went off in Tel Aviv (yes, they should have laid down, they didn't), life here in our little bubble went on. Kids had school, after-school activities were still on (don't mind the booms, kids, that's just the Iron Dome and it's far away, at least 8 or 10 miles from here...), I was still expected to produce respectable deliverables for my job, but at the same time it became all-consuming. The war hadn't come this close before, and it was a week of wondering if the next red alert notification on the radio would be for us. If the whine of the jet engines from the planes temporarily rerouted to the north (and straight over my house) was just that, or was it the first whine of a siren.
It's been nearly a week since it ended now, and the ceasefire appears to be holding, and life has returned to what passes for normal in this little corner of the world.
And it finally feels right to begin blogging again, adding my own little bit of normalcy back into the equation with this image of a still proudly standing Tel Aviv. Still here, still thriving, still full of life.
