We've all been irrevocably changed, and not for the better.

• Author: Prince-Gibson, Eetta
• Position: Israelis and violence

We all pretend to be normal here. We try to manage normal daily routines. But nothing is normal when daily life has become life-threatening. Normalcy is one of the first casualties of terror. We even have a buzzword for it all--ha-matzav--"the situation." "How's the situation?" we greet each other inanely. "Lousy," we answer, even more insipidly.

I have always been proud that I am many things to myself and to others: a journalist, an activist, a wife, and friend. But now, above all, I am a frightened mother, trying to keep her child?en safe, and knowing, so fatally, that I really can't.

I push that thought away because it is intolerable to confront the truth--that I am helpless to protect my family from that hateful someone who is, right now, lurking somewhere, planning, in intricate detail, the death of everyone and everything I love. It is intolerable to think about that man or woman who is, right now, mapping out the best spot to stop, to ambush, to explode, to maim, to murder.

Palestinians say the terrorists are motivated by desperation. I am motivated by dread.

My nine-year-old son incessantly hums the newest Israeli folk-hit: "Our road isn't easy, and your eyes are sometimes so sad. There are still fields of wildflowers ahead of us, and high, cool mountaintops."

My eleven-year-old daughter doesn't want the planned trendy, upscale shopping mall to be built near our home. "It'll only become another target," she mutters.

We all try to keep our kids home as much as possible. If the little ones ask to go to the movies, we offer to rent a video. If the older ones go out, we subtly offer them money for a cab, or, better yet, to drive them. I don't know what to teach my children about ha-matzav. I want them to be alert, but not hyper-vigilant. I want them to be aware, but not fearful. I want them to be suspicious, but not hateful.

Each of us has in our minds a map of places that are safe, and places that are dangerous. Like most people, I try not to go into large public gathering spots, and I avoid closed, crowded spaces. I try to stay off the streets. I take cabs instead of buses or walking, and I never shop at the open markets or larger, cheaper--but more vulnerable--supermarkets anymore. But I know that not everyone can afford these "luxuries" of safety.

The terrorists are silent until their explosions burst into your life. They are faceless until we see their solemn pronouncements, filled with pride at the death and pain they will...