It was Thursday morning, July 10th, I was going with Michal, my granddaughter, to a school in southern Tel Aviv where she was taking the last of a series of Math tests. We live on Itamar and it was a long drive and very hot.
We were going through a tunnel when the first alarm went off and then we heard three thumps and bangs above us. We were in the midst of a missile attack. Everyone stopped their cars and began running for cover. After a few minutes all was calm again and people went about their business as usual.
We got to the school, Michal went to her class, and I made myself comfortable across of a row of offices to wait for her. It was a long day and many hours later, all of a sudden, there went the alarm again and a warning to get below ground and safety for missiles were raining down on us. Students were flying down the stairs, clutching their test papers, the culinary school in the building let out groups of potential chefs clutching spoons, forks and pots and pans (which smelled delicious) and the clerks from the offices across the hall helped me down the stairs and even found a chair for me. People were milling around, the noise was loud with everyone talking at once but before you knew it, calm prevailed, the chefs went back to their class, the math students to their tests and life went on as usual. I really didn’t have time to panic, I just watched the whole experience with pride and resiliency at what wonderful people we are and gave thanks to Hashem for watching over us and keeping us safe and out of harms way.