It's starting to feel impossible to go on.
So tell me something good today
Tell me how your kid started kita aleph with his kal gav backpack stuffed to capacity and his shiny new shoes, to go with his new water bottle and carefully labelled books and a pocketful of hope for a brand new year.
Tell me something good
Because it's getting harder to survive this whole new world
When our best and brightest come home in body bags and our hearts break a little (a lot) more
Tell me when it will all be over
Because how much more can we take?
Tell me how your second grader still skipped into his classroom this morning, his oversized backpacks bouncing with each step.
Tell me how a mother adjusted her son's new kippah before he joined his classmates in Modiin
Or how, in Haifa, a father sneaked an extra cookie into his daughter's lunchbox
Tell me about the customary first day of school pictures, proudly posted on social media, with eyes still full of light
Tell me about the classroom buzzing with the excitement of new beginnings, a cacophony of Hebrew as children shared summer stories
Because-
Outside, the streets bear the weight of a nation in mourning
Parents linger longer than usual at drop-off, their hugs a little tighter, their goodbyes a little more poignant.
How much more can we take?
If you listen really hard, you might hear
The answer
Whispered in countless homes across Israel, it is both a lament and a promise
As much as we must. For our children. For our future. For the hope that tomorrow will be better.
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