Flags

September 30, 2024

I could see them in the distance.

Flapping in the wind.

It looked like hundreds of them in fact.

The bus moved further down Santa Monica Boulevard.

Getting ever closer to them.

I could feel the emotions rising in me.

The flags evoking an unsettling wave, building the closer we got.

The bus pulled up. 

Right alongside the field of flags.

We descended the stairs, hopped off the bus and were told there would be 5 minutes until our connecting Hop On Hop Off Bus arrived to take us out to Santa Monica Pier.

As we stood there, she turned to me.

“Mum, what flag is that?”

My heart started to race.

“Israel”, I replied.

I could see a sign a few meters down so I stepped closer to read it.

A memorial to the lives lost on October 7, 2023 in Israel.

I moved back towards my girls.

It was exactly as I had thought.

Was it privilege that meant I hadn’t realised how close the anniversary was.

My gorgeous girl looked up at me.

“What are the flags for mum?”

“They are to remember the people killed on October 7 last year in Israel,” I replied evenly.

“Oh yes. I know about that war. And how it started.”

I leaned in closer, so we could speak quieter.

On the bus only moments earlier I had heard accents and languages from far and wide.

A French speaking family had been joking in front of us.

A German couple behind us.

There had been an Aussie family right nearby too, the accent standing out like ours.

There were also many Americans.

I knew I had to handle this conversation carefully. Balancing information for an 11 year old with caution to those around me.

“The war that started last year? Or 70 years ago?” I asked.

My girl looked at me quizzically.

“Last year on October 7.”

I carefully explained that that day had been horrific. That what happened was horrible. And in the same breath I also let her know there was so much more to the story.

That this war was in some ways an ancient war. That in other ways it had really begun over 70 years ago.

I also explained that thousands of people had died since October 7. Innocent people.

She listening to everything, wide eyed, but interested.

Our next bus pulled up, so I told her we could chat more about it tonight, once we were back at our hotel, if she wanted to.

As we drove away though, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had done my explanations justice. 

And I couldn’t shake the feeling that those flags had triggered in me.

I also wondered, how many blocks of Beverley Hills would it take to raise a flag for every Palestinian killed so far?

And how would those flags have made everyone feel.