IF WE'LL BE 37 The room is lit, the kids are clean, full, and calm, and I’m reading them a book . I stand at the door, listening intently to the sounds outside . Arabic ? Hebrew ? Footsteps ? Footsteps on the balcony ? Once again, they’re trying to break down the door . Will we ever get out of here ? “Mommy, come already ! ! ” I realize we’re walking in a stream . The kids are wet and happy, the water is flowing, it’s sunny . Moments from the safe room come back to me . And I to them . And what will be of us ? Will a part of me stay in that safe room forever ?
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