ShiraOhayon
I do this every year, twice a year. I press play and watch fascinated as hundreds of vehicles pull over in Israel's busiest highway, Ayalon Road, lining up one after the other, privates behind motorcycles behind trucks behind minibuses, the drivers getting out of their cars and standing by the side of the road. Waiting for the siren. Then the siren starts, and for two minutes, Israel's busiest highway is silent, stoic, frozen. People bow their heads, some lock their hands behind their backs, some let them dangle free. Some stand at attention, some stand easy. I'm surprised to find out that I'm crying, I didn’t cry all these years. And then I notice that I'm absently rubbing the pendant on my necklace, shaped as the map of the State of Israel. No matter where we are, no matter what we do to each other in those other days, the Holocaust Remembrance Day and Memorial Day are the days when I'm proud to be an Israeli.