I’ve been here for over three years, and I have never seen anything like this. No one knew what was happening, and we never could have guessed.

I spent the first day with a friend who was anxiously awaiting to hear if she would be called up for reserve duty. She constantly checked her phone, half terrified, half hopeful to be defending her country.

Every few moments, she would turn to me and show another photo of a young man or woman who had gone missing from the outdoor concert that morning. Many were family members of people she knew. We later discovered that 260 concert-goers had been murdered by the Hamas terrorists that breached the border. She cried several times that day, and the atmosphere was solemn as more and more friends joined us.

Everyone is scared, but more than the fear, they are proud to protect this country.

Megan Powers

Each piece of news hit even closer to home. Terrorists had breached the border on paragliders and overtaken cities surrounding Gaza. They slaughtered families and captured civilians, including women, children, and the elderly, who are still held hostage today. We had no idea how many were in the country. We were terrified that some may have made it to the center, with the goal of killing anyone they see. Israel will do whatever it takes to secure peace and return those hostages to their families.

As my friends walked me home, we stopped at an impromptu blood-drive that had been set up in a parking lot. It opened at 7:30 p.m., and when we arrived at 7:32 p.m., lines of people already snaked down the street.

“This is our country,” she said. “We may fight with each other, we may disagree on our politics, but we come together when we need to.”

At night, I heard the news that a rocket hit a building in Tel Aviv, so I checked on my friend who lives there. She said it hit the building a couple streets from hers, which is concerning because she doesn’t have a bomb shelter.

One friend was on the army base in the South that was attacked on Saturday morning. Her room was covered in blood, and bullet holes littered the walls. I haven’t heard much from her, but she and her boyfriend are preparing to enter Gaza on the ground. We worry that we may never hear from them again. They are 22 years old.

Another friend was meant to be on that base as well, but by some stroke of luck, has been on medical leave all month. She lost three commanders in that attack. Despite the sirens, and despite my begging her to stay inside, she risked her life to spend Monday at their funerals.

Even in the center, we spend the days in and out of the shelter. I leave food half-eaten as I stuff my feet into shoes and run out the door. We’re so accustomed to it that it’s no longer a surprise; we just drop what we’re doing and head to the shelter. My neighbor nods a ‘hello,’ I bring a book, it’s just the routine. We still don’t know if we’re safe. However, there is no place I would rather be.

I have a friend here from Gaza, a man who works at a cafe near my building. I try to check on him each day, to see if he’s still alright. His family can’t leave Gaza, and he can’t get back to them. He doesn’t have a shelter, and everyone left his building. He can’t afford to go anywhere else. I told him he must make it to a shelter during the sirens, or hide in a stairwell at the very least. He said, “I am not afraid of bombing and I do not need shelter. What makes me feel (afraid) is the feeling of loneliness.” So I check on him each day.

I’ve spoken to many people here since this has begun, and there is only one thing I can say with certainty: No one wants this war.

Powers is a 2017 graduate of Southwestern Central School. She is currently studying at Reichman University in Herzliya, Israel.