My own personal tekes.

For the past few years I’ve been home on Yom HaZicaron and I’ve sat on my mirpeset and listened to the tekes that goes on the school down below. Tzur Hadassah, from my home’s perspective, is a giant amphitheater, so I hear some of it pretty well.

So without yet having my children there, I stand with the students and teachers during the siren, I let  their speeches waft into my head, and I sing HaTikvah with them as we end the tekes.

Every year it gets more intense as my kid gets closer and closer in age to attending school and being a part of these ceremonies, dressed in blue and white, singing in the chorus.

The siren sounds, I stand, my legs are a little more wobbly. My heart beats a little faster. My eyes are a bit wetter.

Every year it gets more intense as my kids delve deeper and deeper into Israeli society, swallowed up by blue and white, consumed by Hebrew, and one day, drafted to serve our country in the IDF.

Family outing, Memorial Day, contributing, Israel.

Proud that we managed to dress, pack up, and transport the kids to the Yom HaZicaron tekes in Tzur Hadassah tonight. And that my two-year-old stayed silent and un-startled throughout the siren. And that we managed to stay for the first 15 minutes.

Watching all those kids socialize up until they suddenly stopped for the siren… made me realize the enormity of what I’m contributing here. And what here is contributing to me.

It scares the shit out of me. But there’s no where else to be.

Note for next year: Teach my son that after the siren is over, it’s not a cause for shouting “Yay! Yay!”