When you know the name

First I would like to take the time and apologize for the grammatical errors and spelling mistakes I have on this blog. I don't really have the time to proof read my posts and when I write the post it's from my heart, an emotional response to the situation backed up with facts of what is going on. So again, forgive me but there is not much time for correcting these mistakes.

I woke up today, after a terrible night of barely sleeping due to... well you know. explosions, cannons shelling, etc. My mom finally packed a small bag too and agreed to leave Metulla for a few days. We were hoping to leave as early as possible because the statistic shows that Hezbollah men are somewhat lazy - they don't begin shelling us before 11am. Of course, there was so much to get done before we were able to leave the house and naturally it wasn't before 2pm where we actually got into the car. By then the explosions were so loud we were debating whether or not it was a good idea to go.
But we did go. We were advised not to wear our seatbelts while driving, so that in case of a katyusha hitting us, we would be able to get out of the car faster. Car accidents? hmm... we pretty much had to decide where the bigger risk was; getting hit by a katyusha or a getting into a car accident. Two months ago all I could think of is how I'm getting through finals week and now I'm thinking about how I can manage to stay alive. We can make all the plans we want but at the end of the day you never know what might happen.
One of the soldiers who died last Thursday was Liran Sa'adia z"l. He was a classmate of my sister and the son of our elementary school's gym teacher. He was 21 years old. It hurts to hear about every soldiers and person that dies. Naturally though, it hurts so much more when it is someone you know. I was reading an interview with his parents in the newspaper today and I kept thinking to myself how awful this is, to loose a son, that never even got to begin his life. Liran was supposed to finish his army service in 3 months. He was from kiryat Shmona. He died while defending his house, literarly. Yehi Zichro Baruch.
My mom and I are now near Tel Aviv. It feels as if we're in a different country almost, where life goes on. As if there is no war in the North, as if there are no Kasam missiles landing in the south.
Strange.

*In the picture - Liran Sa'adia z"l