We were living the dream. On October 7, we woke up to a nightmare. After hours in the bomb shelter with armed terrorists on the other side of the wall, at 4 P.M., we heard a knock on the window. ‘Sabba’s here,’ my daughter said, and we all burst into tears
At first, just the sound of a whistle. It was a bit after six in the morning, and my wife Miri was woken by a familiar sound: a mortar shell about to fall. There was no prior alert, but that sound was enough to send us running to the safe room – which also serves as our daughters’ bedroom here on Kibbutz Nahal Oz, the closest place in Israel to Gaza.
