Operation Home Visit was conducted like a military operation for us. The Metula council informed us that they would allow us to go home to pick things up, it would happen at night and everyone would be allocated 20 minutes. An entry time was set, everything was coordinated with the army, messages were even sent that civilians were entering the other side. WhatsApp groups were set up for each neighborhood and windows were set for everyone. I debated what was worth risking my life. But the desire to take routine equipment that will give peace to the family won.
Anti-tank fire at Metula, photo:
I drove to Metula at the appointed time, the further north I went the more the roads emptied and the alertness increased. At the gate of the settlement, they briefed us on the least exposed road to Lebanon. Drive without lights in the car, do not turn on lights in the house until the blinds are raised. Don't take pictures, work quick. Be organized with lists. The colony was in darkness. I get in the car, Sokolovsky at the gate looks at me, "Be even more careful with you," he says.
Vehicle hit by anti-tank fire at Metula,
I drove home quickly. I get to the exposed part. Two hundred meters drive at the end of the border. At the entrance to the house, sandbags built as stands. The courtyard is a military post. Our house is 80 meters from the border fence, the first house to Lebanon, a view of al-Khiam and Marj Ayoun. Two air directions to Hezbollah. With the flashlight of the phone I take a large suitcase, whatever goes in will be taken. A lifetime in a suitcase.
The girls want their dolls, I run around the house and can't find any. A collection of everything you can find. Emptying the fridge, talking to us about months as refugees. The fear of anti-tank fire permeates. We live in direct cover-up. Every night, Hezbollah drones over the community try to locate targets. Things are picked up quickly, time is running out.
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Until two and a half weeks ago, we lived here without fear. House noisy from children's voices. Now all I hear is the buzz of IDF drones. I get out to the car and start driving, almost getting out of Metula and remembering that I forgot something. Hesitating for a second and going back. There is no time, as soon as we leave Metula everyone updates that they have left the colony. That's it, they won't let us more in. We don't know when we'll be back again and if we'll ever come home.
The thoughts of how we will raise children with neighbors from Hezbollah who want to slaughter us. What can protect us, the IDF, a security zone, weapons at home? I go out again, not looking back. What was forgotten will no longer come back. Certainly not our lives.
The writer is a resident of Metula
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