By Tal Bahar

Takeoff and landing 

A month before returning to Israel, I was excited. I couldn't wait any longer. I felt on edge. In the army, we called it home pressure, or end-of-route atmosphere. 

But suddenly, the closer the return got, the more I no longer felt this urge to return. The week before my flight, I was so worried that I almost preferred to postpone the return a little. I don't even know why. 

Maybe it was because of the rapid transition between cultures, maybe because that I didn't feel like I had really succeeded or had time to process the crazy year I had gone through. 

Maybe it was because when I flew to Richmond exactly a year ago and left Israel, I pressed the stop button, but the lives of all my family and friends continued, and I am now returning to the point where everyone is no longer at. 

And of course, I also built a life and made family and friends two continents away, and was scared that no one really, really, could understand what that meant. 

When I flew, on May 29, apathy filled me. I was no longer excited, nor afraid, I just wanted to finish this heavy task of long flights. And, as I thought, this flight was… a little too much. Surprisingly, there were almost no babies or small children, but I couldn't fall asleep for a moment. 

I had already forgotten what it is like, Israelis, full of “Hutzpah,” doing whatever they want. And my brothers and sisters got in the way of my sleep. I forgot how much I love it, this all at once lovely and frustrating Israeli character. 

I read, laughed with the people around me; spoke Hebrew. I didn't really understand where the lovely, loving couple sitting next to me had returned from, but if I had to guess, they had come from some long-short vacation in New York. A couple of their friends were sitting behind them, and they repeatedly said to each other, "It's a shame we're back." 

I smiled, because even as the plane approached a tiny dot with the name Israel on the flight map on the screen in front of me, I didn't feel anything. Until, the moment when the Israeli coastline appeared before me, through the nice couple who separated me from the plane window.

Tears began to well up in my eyes. I was amused by the idea that this couple who separated me from the landscape of the land that I haven't seen in a whole year probably don't understand why I'm so excited right now. 

What's so exciting about the sight of this coastline that for most people symbolizes a return to routine but for me reflects my safe place. What's so exciting about these dry fields that for most people symbolize the hot summer, but for me reflect the heart of Zionism. What's so exciting about the crazy density of buildings and houses that for most people symbolize the population explosion and the high cost of living, but for me reflect the warmth, love and shared destiny of the Israelis. What's so exciting about these traffic jams that dominate all the roads of the Land of Israel and for many symbolize the transportation problems but for me represent... Actually, the traffic jams specifically annoy me. And yet, I would rather drive in the traffic jams of the Land of Israel than on the open roads of any other place. 

And then we landed. And I wanted to take a picture of the applause that all of you who have visited the Land of Israel know, but the phone fell from my hands in excitement, and I also protested loudly. Days and nights I dreamed of this applause; so unique only to the Israeli landing in the Land of Israel. And the tears began to flow uncontrollably. 

How much I’ve missed home!!!

I got off the plane, and my heart rate got faster. I almost ran toward the baggage claim and was swept away by all the signs in Hebrew. I almost hopped on the conveyor belt, because I was so impatient. 

Get out! I wanted to yell at the luggage. But, my suitcase arrived before I could. I immediately went to the lobby, and my whole family was in front of me. Mom who tricked me into believing she wouldn’t be there, Dad, Yuval, Itay, even Luna our dog. All that came out of me were tears and "I'm going to pass out." That's how I really felt. Mom and Dad had become even more beautiful, and Itay was so tall and Yuval was already 20 years old. And it felt like a dream come true. 

We got in the car and on the drive back home I said I have no idea how I would hold back from seeing Saba and Savta X2 until Sunday when the entire extended family from both sides would come to us for Shavuot. But when we opened the door to our house, the four of them were sitting there on the balcony. They surprised me, and again I felt like I was going to faint. And I cried so much. Because I missed those four angels so much. And I gave hugs, and kisses, and gifts. 

Later that day my best friends all arrived. It all felt like a dream. But also the same. And it all remains like a dream to this day. How good it is to be home.

Things you see from there you can't see from here

When I was little and I was confused, or angry, or hurt, or having a hard time, my father would tell me, "Imagine that you're stepping out of the picture and looking at it from above. From the outside." 

My father wanted me to pay attention to all the details and look at them objectively. From the moment I landed in Israel, I suddenly noticed things that I had never given any importance to. And it was strange, because I've lived my entire life here, out of 24 years of my life, 23 of them were almost entirely in Israel, and all the things that my eyes see now I've seen before. I've always been so inside, and something about this stepping out, and coming back in, highlighted all these things that I missed.

Suddenly I realized - things you see from there you can’t see from here. It starts, of course, with the superficial things. Suddenly, the toilet at home seemed lower than I remembered, the sink seemed deeper and bigger, the floors of the house seemed wider and brighter.  

I didn't even remember the roll of paper towels being so small. But also on the deeper side of it all, I didn't remember how many Israeli flags and yellow flags hang all over the country. I didn't remember that in every square and on every fence there are pictures of the hostages and pictures of fallen soldiers. 

I didn't remember that there is so much graffiti and screaming wall writings. It's impossible to ignore the pride intertwined with pain. You can't miss the polarization when on one side of Ayalon hangs a sign saying "Either Israeli sovereignty or a seventh in the center of the country" and on the other side "You are the boss - you are to blame. End the war!" which is entangled with love and unity in the form of signs saying "Together we will win." 

And suddenly, it hit me. I always thought I was missing it, but I didn't realize how much. And my friends here are already used to it. Completely indifferent to it. When I shared this with them, they told me that sometimes all the signs and flags make them blind. And probably, because I too was so used to all this until a year ago, suddenly only now, when I left and came back, when I no longer live in Israel permanently, do I see. 

And not only in visibility, but also in feelings. Every time an alarm went off in Israel in the past year, I received a notification on my phone. I immediately wrote to everyone. I worried so much, much more than my family and friends in Israel worried. They were already used to it.

A few days passed and the first alarm sounded since I arrived. The whole family was at home and we went into the shelter.

 I was worried, and they all laughed. They said to me, "Did you become an American?" So, I laughed too. 

The second alarm caught my two friends and me in the car on the way back from Tel Aviv. They wanted to keep driving, but I wanted to follow the instructions and stop on the side of the road. I sat down on the sidewalk, and they stood. 

And suddenly my fear turned into anger. How can this be? After a moment we got into the car and drove home. Exactly one week after I arrived, my sister Yuval, Aunt Ronit and I surprised my mother for her 50th birthday with tickets to a concert by her favorite band, "Mashina," and a night at a hotel in Jerusalem. 

We walked around the market, and the city,  ate a lot of traditional foods, and were almost late for the concert because all the streets were blocked for the Pride Parade in Jerusalem. We managed to get to the concert, we danced, we sang, we hugged. 

There, my third alarm sounded that week. And the band did the smartest thing for the 5,000 people in the audience - they continued playing. Yuval Banai, the vocalist, announced into the microphone the Israeli slang: "The Houthis can jump to me!", which its English version unfortunately I can’t write in here. 

So, we jumped, laughed, danced, and continued singing. And that's how I stopped being afraid, and became ambivalent like all the people of this country. Until the missiles arrived from Iran.

"The Octopus' Head"

For many days, the shadow of a possible attack on Iran did not move from us. We all knew, we felt it in our bones, that it could happen at any moment. And when it will come, it would probably be the most important fight to protect our existence. 

For decades we have known about the Iranian threat, but now, they were one step away from achieving the capabilities to completely destroy Israel. And like deja vu for October 7, 2023, we woke up all over the country in the middle of the night of June 13th 2025 to a siren. 

After a year and nine months of incessant war, we are all alert and ready, even Luna the dog recognizes the sound of the siren, and the sound of the alerts from our phones before, runs between the rooms and barks for us all to come to the shelter. A siren throughout the country, without reports of missiles, we immediately realized that something else was happening. 

We turned on the news and discovered - they woke us all up so that we are ready and know - the State of Israel has launched a preemptive attack on the Islamic Republic of Iran - and a war on another front has begun. This time, against the head of the octopus, the root of evil in the Middle East. 

This country, which was progressive and modern and in close relations with the State of Israel and the West, has been captured by an extremist Islamist tyrannical regime, whose goal is a return to the days of empire. And they have long since admitted that they will destroy anything that stands in their way. The rights of the country's citizens - they have destroyed. 

The sovereignty of other countries in the Middle East and Africa - they have destroyed with the help of proxies. Modernity - they have destroyed. The ability to think freely of the young people of the West - they have destroyed as well. In such a clever way that these young people are not even aware that they are not thinking for themselves. And because of all this, they are not afraid, loudly, to threaten the destruction of entire peoples and nations, on billboards, in speeches, with chants of "Death to America, Death to Britain, Death to Israel." 

In the name of values ​​of freedom and security, the West makes concessions to them. But we have already learned that those who seek to destroy us - do not just threaten. On command, they will carry it out. Therefore, we must take them seriously. 

And while I was just a step away from signing the article, the U.S. joined the fighting and attacked the nuclear reactor in Iran, out of a precise understanding of reality. We share a common fate. Israel may be the first target, but if Israel falls, the future of the entire free world will be sealed - it will end up falling. Time will tell what is to come. Many are now saying: "first comes power, then comes peace." 

I wish peace would come already. We must hold on to it.

Itay's Bar Mitzvah - 22nd of Sivan

One of the reasons I came back to visit home at this particular time is because of my brother's Bar Mitzvah. We planned a big ceremony at the synagogue and an event immediately afterward, with family from all over the country and lots of friends. Even Tuck was supposed to come celebrate with us. But you know what they say: "Man makes plans and God laughs." 

And a little over a week before the 22nd of Nisan, the preemptive attack against Iran began. The truth is, we didn't know how or even if we would celebrate at all. And Itay, this sweet boy, who had connected so much to God and Judaism in the past year, and went to synagogue every Friday and had been waiting so long, for months, for his moment - insisted that it would happen, as if he knew. 

He practiced the drasha. every moment of every day; practiced putting on tefillin. He summoned it. The event was, of course, canceled, but we couldn’t even think of not having the ceremony at the synagogue, even though we had sirens the night before and earlier that morning. 

Itai stood on the bimah throughout the ceremony next to the Torah scroll, even when he didn't read from it. Aba stood there next to him, and Saba Avraham and Saba Ben Zion sat on the bimah with them. All wrapped in tefillin and tallit, under divine protection. 

The Rabbi invited the grandfathers to ascend as well. Avraham ben Vitaly first, and Ben Zion ben Zvi second. And when Saba Boris, Ben Zion, ascended, my eyes suddenly filled with tears. This very same Saba Ben Zion, who, when he was a 13-year-old boy, had to hide with his father from the Soviet authorities in Moldova to sneak into the synagogue, in order to have his Bar Mitzvah. 

This very same Saba Ben Zion who was forced to hide his Judaism and despite the great danger, he and his father insisted on ascending to the Torah when he reached the age of mitzvah. This very same Saba Ben Zion, now standing on the bimah, ascending to the Torah, during his grandson's Bar Mitzvah. And even today, many want us to deny our Judaism. 

That we’ll hide. That we’ll disappear. Trying to scare us, trying to erase us. The "supposedly" reasons are different, they are trying to tell us a "supposedly" different story. But this time, we are not backing down. 

We stand firm, proud, and insist. My brother's Hebrew birth date is the 22nd of Sivan. The 23rd of Sivan is the date on which Ahasuerus allowed the Jews to defend themselves from the evil plague and the plan of extermination devised by the evil Haman of Persia, and to attack their persecutors first, to take responsibility for their fate. Saba Ben Zion hid from the police in the Soviet Union, and today, the 22nd of Sivan, he and all the family and friends proudly arrived to celebrate Itay's bar mitzvah, without hiding or apologizing, in the State of Israel, in the Land of Israel. Because we, we long ago stopped running away. 

 

We’re here to stay.

Am Israel Chai!

*****

I can't put into words this significant period of time that I've experienced here in Israel in the past month. 

So many people, so many emotions, so much history happening before my eyes and also, a simple present. Of love, of the sea, of friends, of Simcha, and most importantly, of family. Recharging batteries for another wonderful year with you all. And I'm already so looking forward to returning, to sharing the Israeli spirit, to give and receive hugs and love.