Dear world,
I don’t think I ever imagined how much I’d miss home. Being here in the midst of everything, feeling the weight of every choice and every day, has a way of shifting your perspective. And while I’m here, doing my best to focus on what’s ahead, a part of me is always with you, miles away, thinking of the life I paused and the people I carry with me.
There’s a part of me that’s learning to cherish the silence, the moments just before dawn when I can sit, even briefly, and think of home. I close my eyes, and I picture you, the little moments that fill a normal day—sitting around the table, catching up, laughing at things that don’t even matter. It’s strange to think how much those small moments mean to me now. You don’t realize the value of peace until it’s no longer a given.
Being here, in uniform, I understand now that I’m part of something much bigger than myself. When I put on this uniform, I feel like I’m carrying not just my own dreams but the dreams of our people. It’s hard to put into words, but there’s this deep sense of connection to everyone who came before us, those who wanted nothing more than to live in a place we could call home, a place where we could be safe, be ourselves. Standing guard, I feel like I’m fulfilling the dreams of our ancestors, dreams that once seemed impossible.
You don’t realize the value of peace until it’s no longer a given.
There are moments here when you feel the weight of it all—the responsibility, the purpose, the legacy. I look around at my fellow soldiers, and each one of us is here for something we believe in. We’ve all left behind loved ones, lives that were once so familiar, to step into this role. We’re here because it matters, because this land matters, and because being part of Israel’s defense is a gift, a calling that I’ll carry with pride for the rest of my life.
I don’t tell you all of this enough, but I miss you. I miss home in ways that are hard to express. There are days when I can almost smell the familiar scents of our home, hear the laughter, and feel that warmth that only comes from family. It keeps me grounded, reminding me why I’m here, giving me strength in the quiet moments when doubt creeps in.
There’s a unity among us that’s hard to explain—a bond that only comes from sharing this life together, from knowing that we’re here to protect, to stand for something greater. Some nights, we sit in silence, all of us lost in our own thoughts, and it’s understood. It’s a look in the eyes, a shared understanding that no words are needed. We’re here for Israel, for each other, for everything that home represents.
I sometimes wonder how I’ll be when I return. It’s hard to imagine just sliding back into life as it was. Serving has changed me, has shown me sides of myself I didn’t know existed. I’ve seen strength and resilience in myself and others that goes beyond anything I could have imagined. And it makes me want to be better, to live up to the legacy I’m part of. To make you proud.
There’s a part of me that feels an overwhelming pride in what we’re doing here, in knowing that we’re part of something enduring. To be able to give back to a country that has given so much, to know that I’m contributing to the safety and security of our people—there’s a quiet honor in it, a sense that no matter what happens, this experience will always be part of me.
If only I could say these things to you in person. If only I could sit with you, feel the comfort of being home, and share everything that words fail to express. Until that day, keep me in your thoughts, as I keep you in mine. Know that I’m here, strong and proud, with every step grounded in love for you and for the home we all share.
With all my love, and everything I wish I could put into words.
