Sound
There are two sounds that in my opinion are the essence of what it means to be an Israeli and a Jew, and every time I hear them, they move me all over again. The first is the song of penitence. The sound of this sacred bond that the song of penitence allows us to experience, swaying from side to side in unison, some with tears in their eyes, others with their eyes closed, in a moment of prayer and supplication before the Creator of the World.
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The second is the siren that is sounded on Memorial Day for the Fallen Soldiers of Israel and Victims of Terrorism. Every year, whether it be the evening or morning siren, the sound immediately connects me to the young faces of fellow soldiers and commanders who fell defending our beloved country, and whose loss we feel so strongly.
Scent
There is one scent I find to be the most Israeli and every time I feel its aroma it transports me back to my childhood. I am referring to the scent of pine trees and the sight of oak trees in the Carmel forest, next to which I grew up. This Israeli scent automatically evokes the memories of my childhood, during which I fell in love with the land of Israel. It mesmerizes me every time and makes me long for that bygone era.
Longing
I miss the heart-to-heart talks I used to have with my friend Emmanuel Moreno, who was like a brother to me. The general public knows very little about him, almost nothing really, except his name and rank. Even his photographs are still banned from publication, but in my memory, his face remains engraved, especially his personality, kind treatment of others, and special worldview.
Before he was killed in the 2006 Lebanon War, Moreno and I were kindred spirits. He was the first person I turned to in times of need. To this day, I often think to myself about what advice Emanuel would give me in a particular situation. I miss him every day.
Place
Although I grew up in Haifa, I also have fond memories of Jerusalem as every summer my family had a tradition to exchange apartments and spend one week in the capital, which would become our home during summer break. Thanks to this, I got to know Jerusalem well – by walking its streets. To this day, I miss the walks my father, mother, and brothers took together, exploring the city's magical alleys.
Experience
It happened almost thirty years ago, but there is one experience I remember as if it occurred yesterday. It was a Sayeret Matkal end-of-training ceremony during which we received insignias we were not allowed to don.
Only fighters participated in the ceremony, with no family members present, that took place on an actual farm near Dimona, where we completed another week of training. We walked 140 kilometers, carrying 50 kilograms on our back, alone, in the middle of the night. That experience shaped me into who I am.
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