When the Displaced Arrived: She Ain’t Heavy, She’s My Sister
We had a quiet Monday night. No warnings or sirens after 9:30 PM.
To my amazement, as I was getting my morning cup of coffee from the restaurant’s coffee maker—an Americano in a cup half the size I’m used to—a live toy poodle scurried by, with a small pack of pajama-clad children in pursuit.
Looking around, I saw several families eating breakfast. They certainly weren’t here yesterday in our boutique hotel in Modi’in. This place has been our quiet respite from the chaos outside.
It turns out that about 100 men, women, and children—perhaps 15 families in all—were checked in late Monday night.
There was near bedlam around me. People speaking loudly. Children running up and down the hallways, shrieking as if at recess. Not one, but at least three miniature dogs in........
