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Last Saturday Morning....

Elana Sztokman

13 באוק׳ 2023

Here's what my Oct 7 looked like

Last Saturday morning at around 6:30, I was lying in bed thinking to myself, “Wow, my upstairs neighbor is doing quite a workout this morning.” It felt like massive weights kept dropping on the floor above me. Weights so large that the walls and windows would shake. It made no sense, but to be fair, I also wasn’t fully conscious. 

My phone, charging next to my bed, kept beeping. I mostly ignored it, assuming it was some news notification. But then it became more frequent, in rapid pace. Boom. Windows shake. Ping. Ping. Ping. Boom. Windows shake. Ping. Ping. Ping.


I opened my eyes and sat up. I grabbed my phone. 


It was my daughter who lives in Ashkelon whatsapping me.


Ima, we’re being attacked. 

We’re on our way to you. 

We’ll be there in an hour. 


I responded:


What?!!??!!

Okay of course. Come over. 

Bring food. 


That’s where my head was for that first moment. I wasn’t thinking war. I was thinking chag. I hadn’t cooked much on Friday because it was just my husband and me for the holiday, the synagogue was planning a communal lunch, and anyway I was a bit under the weather and had spent most of Friday sleeping on the couch. So, yeah, my biggest worry at the time was that I wasn’t prepared for company, even my kids, and wouldn’t have what to feed them. 


Then I looked at the news. 


Non-stop rocket barrages. Infiltrations. Something not normal was happening.


I jumped out of bed and got busy. Within the hour, we had set up the guest room for my daughter, her husband, and their 3-month-old baby. I had managed to pull together food for them (and deleted my message. Why add stress?) Busy, busy, busy — and controlling my shock while checking for updates. 


They arrived an hour later, a bit shaky but calm. They had passed by some terrifying things on the road — a bullet-ridden car, a few fires, fallen rockets. 


Then my son-in-law said he was going back to Ashkelon. 


What?! Why?! You can’t go back there!


He had to.


I have to get my brother.


He went to go fetch his 17-year-old brother who was stranded. His brother had been staying with friends who ran from the city and left him alone. He showed up at his brother’s house (and my daughter’s), not knowing that they were already in Modi’in. 


My son-in-law ran out. Back to the front. 


Read the rest at Lilith.

© 2021 by Elana Sztokman 

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