Two years. Two long years since morning broke on Simchat Torah, the holy day whose name literally means “rejoicing in the Torah.” But instead of the sounds of worship and laughter, Israel’s skies were filled with sirens, and synagogues were filled with sheer terror and endless tears because the country was under attack.
To the south, smoke rose where children should have been awakening to the rising sun. Gunfire sounded instead of music at a wilderness festival for young people. The air carried cries no mother should ever hear.
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