February 28, 2026. 8:10 a.m. I am sitting in the quiet desert landscape of Mitzpe Ramon, in the heart of the Negev, a coffee in hand, when the shrill wail of the siren on my phone shatters the silence.
The headlines flash: “Israel launches strikes in Iran.” In that instant, the desert serenity evaporates and we begin the 400 km. drive north to our home, heading right back into the eye of the storm.
Four and a half hours later, I am proudly back in my olive-green IDF uniform. Moments before I head out to the base where I served for over 400 days during the Israel-Hamas War, my three children approach me. Their eyes carry a heavy, familiar fear as they ask the question echoing in every home across northern Israel: “Dad, will we have to be evacuated from our home again?”
Exactly one year has passed since we returned to our home at Kibbutz Dafna, a green communal village in the North, nestled less than 2 km. from the Lebanese border. It was a year spent fighting for every scrap of normalcy: rebuilding our careers, sending the kids to school, and reviving our community.
Through shared social initiatives and a collective sense of destiny, we successfully restored our resilience. Yet here we are, the drumbeats of war are sounding again, bringing the painful realization that our communities will once more be the first to face the fire from Hezbollah.
What, then, has changed between the long months of the previous conflict and this new escalation?
'This time we are staying'
The answer lies in the most fundamental fact of all: We are home. This time, we have not been evacuated. As my children told me with surprising resolve: “Even if they want us to leave, this time we are staying.”
Admittedly, living in a combat zone is a grueling daily reality. Our routine is composed of frequent sirens, drone incursions, and the constant thuds of artillery. We live in the sonic gap between the thunderous interceptions of the Iron Dome and the explosions of enemy rockets.
Schools have closed once more, shifting back to the flickering screens of Zoom. Only in the last few days did the children’s sports clubs reopen, a small, vital anchor of sanity amid the chaos.
In the past, I was a vocal critic of the government’s decision to carry out a mass evacuation of the North. Today, I am more convinced than ever that staying is the right choice. Despite the danger and even though a campaign against Hezbollah may prove longer and more complex than the confrontation with Iran, the very fact that we are here is the true victory.
This is a message of strength and resilience. It is a message to our fellow citizens across the country currently huddled in shelters under Iranian missile attacks, and a message to the world: Despite the personal and economic toll, we will not abandon our home. Our steadfast presence on the northern frontier is a moral and strategic barrier against those who seek our destruction. It proves that no matter how hard they try, we are here to stay. Our communities are strong, our spirit is unyielding, and our love for this land outweighs any threat.
I pray that this time, Israel will decisively dismantle Hezbollah’s capabilities, creating a new and stable security reality on the Lebanese border, one that will allow us to rebuild our businesses and raise our children in the most beautiful place on earth.
And to you, the readers abroad, I hope to meet you soon in the quiet, green lanes of Kibbutz Dafna.
Am Yisrael Chai!
The writer has served in the IDF for 31 years and currently serves as a reserve officer in the Golan Heights Division. A resident of Kibbutz Dafna near the Lebanese border, he is a doctoral candidate at the University of Haifa and the author of the book Embracing the Enemy.