What first comes to mind when you think of October 7, 2023?

Terror. Fear. Noise. People. Run. Crying. Family. War. 

These are just some of the emotions shared by my friends from Israel and the diaspora. 

October 7, 2023, was a normal day. I heard there was a terrorist attack in Israel. I watched rockets flying over the map of Israel, and I called my family to check-in. It was normal for them - all this pain. Waking up to alarms and having to hide in a bomb shelter is all normal for them. But not for us. 

On the morning of October 7, I texted as many people from Israel as I knew, but one of them stood out. It’s a message I still think about. 

 Me: Hey Gili, I heard about the rockets in Israel. Are you okay? Is your family safe?

Gili: Yes, we have alarms right now. I’m on my way to the shelter.

Me: Stay safe, please. I love you and hope to see you again soon.

Gili: Don’t worry about me. This is normal. I just wish I could see Bruno Mars sing tonight. 

To this day, I think about what could have happened to my friend if she had gone to the Bruno Mars concert that night at the Nova Festival. It’s something I try not to imagine, but it’s hard. All the “what ifs” are hanging in the air. What if they shoot again? What if she was there? What if they get to my family? 

The next morning, I had a very important interview. Before going in, my friend from school called and said, “Hey, did you see there were attacks in Israel?” I brushed it off and said it was okay and normal because that’s what my Israeli friends assured me of. That same evening, I got home to my parents watching the news and saying, “A war started in Israel.” Our lives were never the same. 

Thousands of people fled. Many are hurting and suffering. Men were called to protect their country. For them, it’s not just an obligation - it’s in their heart. They live to protect their homes. For months, I couldn’t stop thinking about my uncles, who were there too. Are they okay? Will they live? Will I see them soon? 

Some people say October 7, 2023, is just another day. But, if it was just a day, would it continue for a year? Would it be a symbol of hurting people? Would it be an excuse for the rise of antisemitism? 

A year later, it’s October 7, 2024. I, as a Jewish teen living outside of Israel, was scared to go out. I was scared to go to my Jewish school or the old Jewish neighborhood in my city. I was scared to go to the synagogue, our sacred space. I was scared to say out loud the words: “It’s been a year.” But between all that “scary,” I went out. I went to school. I went to the old Jewish neighborhood, and I even went to the synagogue. And in the synagogue, I remember saying to my friend: I wish I could close my eyes and wake up from this like it’s a bad dream. I did close my eyes, but I opened them only to see the countdown of how many days it’s been since Hamas took their hostages. And although I wish I didn’t, we have to face reality. Within the year of the war, Israel has held strong and mighty.

It has been a year too long, but we will dance again. עם ישראל חי🎗️