When I get out of this I’m going to get everybody presents”
sings Eviatar Banai in one of his songs.
I’ve already received my gift – our lives are our gifts.
On Saturday at 12:30 it looked like that gift was going to be taken away.
On Saturday I saw death in the form of two terrorists with large knives passing by the living room window, making their way to our patio.
Six of us were at home. Both of us, the kids, Itay’s friend who slept over on Friday, and Jenny – one of the founders of Yishuv Netiv HaAsara. She got caught in a fire exchange during her 6am walk and knocked on the first door she recognized.
We entered the safe room and quickly realized that locking it from the inside would be impossible. We silenced everybody and waited in the dark – for god knows what.
I made a split of a second decision to go to the kitchen and get some knives. I thought to myself “they won’t take us without a fight”. Then, someone tried to break in through the front door. Violently.
If you were wondering – that’s what pure horror feels like.
For 40 minutes Ilan and I stood shoulder to shoulder. He put his weight against the door handle, I stood ready with the knives and Ofer tried to get the word out that we’re in danger, but didn’t succeed.
After hearing bursts being fired right outside our house we started hearing Hebrew (I can’t explain what a small but monumental joy that was). When we left the safe room we saw they indeed tried to break into our house and thanks to some miracle, divine protection and a great deal of luck – they gave up and moved on.
We have a theory that they may have seen Hugo – our dog, who stayed outside the safe room. Maybe that made them reconsider.
Luckily for us, they didn’t know that they had met our Pitbull mix, and if they had, they would have gotten tail wags and some face licks.
The terrorists were caught later on by the IDF but I’ve dreamt about them every night since.
I’m left to wonder how to respond to my gift. Thank you? Thank you very much? I’m not sure.
In the photo: Our terrifying Hugo curled up with ‘Hatul’, our cat. We still don’t know what happened to her.