A Girl from Cincinnati and a Sky Full of Missiles
My name is Ella Karito, and I am from Cincinnati. We visit Israel at least once a year. My parents are from Israel, and I have a big family there. I have experienced sirens and missiles before, and let me tell you, hearing about the war is very different from standing there when it is actually happening.
One evening, I was with my family after dinner. Everything felt normal. The windows were open a little, and I could hear people talking outside, cars passing by, and the usual evening sounds. Then, suddenly, there was a loud alert from the phone, followed by an outdoor siren.
It was loud and serious, and everyone around me reacted right away. People stood up quickly, grabbed their phones, and started moving toward the shelter. Someone said, “Shelter, now.” We had about 30 seconds to get to the public bomb shelter.
We rushed outside alongside the others who lived nearby — families, children, elderly people, fellow visitors. Some walked fast, some ran. A woman was clutching a baby. An older man moved carefully with his cane. A little boy was terrified trying to follow his father’s directions while his father alongside him murmured for him to keep calm. Each one of them rushing towards the public bomb shelter.
The siren continued as we moved. My heart was beating fast. I was trying to stay calm, but it was hard because everything happened so suddenly. One minute we were having a normal evening, and the next minute everyone was rushing to safety.
When we reached the shelter, some people went inside right away, but others stayed near the entrance and looked up at the sky. I stopped inside the entrance too and looked where they were looking. I could see flashes of light high above us. Missiles were being intercepted in the air, and there were small bursts that looked almost like fireworks, except everyone knew they were not fireworks.
I stood there for a moment, just watching. I was too stunned to speak. I knew I should probably move farther inside, but I could not stop looking at the sky.
The shelter was simple, but crowded. It smelled like concrete and dust. People were checking their phones, reading alerts, and whispering updates to each other. I had questions, but I could not really get the words out. I wanted to know how long we would have to stay there, but mostly I just listened. Then we heard another loud explosion.
Every time we heard an explosion outside, the room became quiet again. Then, after a few seconds, people started talking. Some adults tried to reassure the children. Others checked on people around them. Even though everyone was worried, people were still polite and helpful.
I thought about Cincinnati while we waited. At home, I never think about bomb shelters. I never wonder where to go if a siren starts. The sky is just the sky. But in Israel, during those moments, everyone knows what to do. They know where the shelters are, how quickly they need to move, and how to help others along the way.
After some time, the sirens stopped, but we did not leave right away. Everyone waited until it was safe. The silence afterward felt strange. It was calmer, but people were still alert
I came to Israel as a girl from Cincinnati, visiting family like I had many times before. But when I walked out of that shelter, something felt different. I understood that bravery does not always look loud or confident. Sometimes bravery is staying calm when you are scared, listening when you are confused, holding on to the people you love, and doing what you need to do to stay safe.
