Today, my heart is torn in two. As an Israeli, I'm living through a moment that fills me with both desperate hope and crushing fear.
We're about to release nearly 2,000 prisoners - people who may well return to terrorize us, our children, our communities. The thought keeps me awake at night. These aren't just statistics; these are individuals who might one day target our buses, our cafes, our homes. I know this, we all know this, and this knowledge is a heavy burden we carry.
But then I think of our hostages. For 471 agonizing days, we've been waiting, hoping, praying. I see their families on television, in our streets, their faces etched with pain that has become part of our national soul. Every Shabbat dinner, there's an empty chair somewhere. Every holiday, another celebration marked by absence. These aren't just other people's children - in Israel, they're all our children.
When I close my eyes, I still see the horrors of October 7th. The brutality of that day is seared into my memory, making the thought of releasing these prisoners feel like swallowing broken glass. Yet in the same breath, those memories make me desperate to bring our people home, to heal at least this one wound among the many we carry.
My friends, my neighbors, my entire country - we're all caught in this same emotional storm. We debate it in our kitchens, argue about it in our cafes, wrestle with it in our hearts.
This is what it means to be Israeli today: to feel your heart simultaneously soaring with hope and sinking with dread.
Every time I hear about another hostage who might come home, tears well up in my eyes. Every time I think about the prisoners we're releasing, my stomach tightens with fear. This is our reality - a reality where joy and terror dance together, where hope and fear share the same breath.
We'll celebrate when our hostages return, yes - but it will be a celebration tinged with anxiety about tomorrow. This is the price we're paying, the choice we're making. And while my mind understands the dangers, my heart screams that we must bring them home. This is who we are as Israelis - we don't leave our people behind, even when the cost terrifies us to our core.
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