10/07/2026
I’m 18, and sometimes I’m still too scared to sleep in my own bed.
I still remember the terror of October 7th.
Early that morning, my mom screamed, “Get out of bed! There’s a siren!” We had to get to a safe space.
Then there were more sirens. And more.
It was Shabbat. My dad had already left for synagogue, and my mom and I had no idea what was happening. But we knew it wasn’t good. We were really scared.
My mom went onto the balcony to see if anyone was outside, to try to understand what was going on. She saw a friend from another building, who told her, “We’re at war.” She told my mom about the invasion.
I remember the horrible feeling in my stomach. It stayed there all day.
That night, my parents were glued to their phones. Everybody was. We wanted to understand, but we couldn’t believe how many people had been killed. Innocent people. Young people at a dance party. Babies. Soldiers.
And it didn’t end that night.
For weeks, there were sirens, and we kept having to run to shelters. We don’t have a shelter in our home, so we moved into a friend’s apartment while they were away.
Two other friends stayed with us because they were scared to be alone. Then my sister-in-law, who was pregnant, came too. My brother was serving with the police and couldn’t be with her.
We were all scared and sad. There was no school.
If I had to choose one word for how I felt, it would be terrified.
To be honest, I’m still scared.
Every Friday night, my mom and I light Shabbat candles, and we pray. We pray so hard.
We prayed so hard for the hostages. We keep praying for our soldiers. We pray that our leaders will help bring this war to an end. That Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis and everyone who wants to hurt us will no longer be able to.
One of the saddest moments for me was when my counselor’s brother, who was a hostage, was killed in Gaza. Someone connected to someone I knew. For me, that was just the worst.
I’ll never forget October 7th.
I hope you don’t either.
Caila 
