When everyone in the States heard about it, they all asked the same thing: “Are you coming back?”

Right before Rosh Hashanah, the Mishpacha editors asked if I had anything to submit on their theme about “home.”

“When in life have you finally felt like you were ‘there’?” they prompted.

I thought about the concept and then told them I had nothing to write. Home is just… home. I couldn’t think of any particular realization, any moment when I’d realized, “This is it.”

Then the first siren rang out as we were waking up on Simchas Torah.

And the second as we were trying to leave to shul.

The third, fourth, and fifth continued to ring throughout the morning.

Another one reached us as we were walking down the old stone streets of our city, going to check in on my sister. We ducked into a nearby hallway — someone’s private home — and the residents poked their heads out to check on us.

We felt the vibrations as Hashem’s shield blocked the missiles. We heard the booms as people-killing machines exploded right above us. It felt like only inches away.

And when everyone in the States heard about it, they all asked the same thing: “Are you coming back?”