This morning around three o’clock, we were woken by a siren. I didn’t hear it myself, but my husband shook my leg vigorously to get me up. “Those Houthis again. I’ve had enough of them. This time, I’m staying in bed and not going to the shelter,” I thought to myself.
But no sooner had I laid my head back on the pillow than my phone started screeching—louder than anything since the days of old landline phones. I thought it was broken. Then we heard the same screech from Aviel’s phone, and it was clear: This was something different. A situation we hadn’t experienced before.

I looked at my phone and saw a message we’d never received before: “Prepare for a prolonged stay in the shelter.” That’s the sentence I remember. But the sirens sounded different too—louder and stranger. We also got various messages about how to stay safe. I only learned the rest later—like the US Ambassador to Israel saying, “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.” What had happened? What was...

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