US Diplomats Go Home: Ceasefire in Doubt After US–Iran Talks Collapse - April 12, 2026

Dear Readers,

I am back after a week of Passover break. When I try to gather my thoughts to write about my recent life for the newsletter, I scroll through my photos. The pictures remind me of where I’ve been, who I’ve seen, what I’ve felt. Without them, everything blurs together. When I see the events and the places, life comes back into focus— and I am grateful.

I have been saying that we in Israel are on an emotional roller-coaster. And since the ceasefire was announced, I have been ecstatic.  It feels so good to get into bed without wondering if a siren notifying me of an incoming missile barrage will wake me up. I  just get into bed and just sleep. Wow! That’s incredible! We can go outside and move freely. I went for a run on Friday, and it honestly felt like ecstasy—pure, simple, physical relief. A friend from synagogue saw me on my run and commented after Saturday morning services that I had looked to thrilled. Of course! I was not calculating my distance to the nearest shelter. Just running.

And I wasn’t the only one. All of Tel Aviv seemed to pour outside this past weekend. The beaches were packed, synagogue was full, the streets buzzing. People were out—really out—ready to be with each other again and meet new people. This has been stifled. You could feel it in the air. A kind of urgency to live, to connect, to reclaim something that had been paused. 

But underneath that energy, there’s still something complicated. Dating, for example. Men are in and out of reserve duty, relationships are disrupted before they even have a chance to form. I wrote about this in The Jerusalem Post over a year ago, and it’s still true today. Consistency is hard to find when life itself is so inconsistent.

Still, people are trying. Really trying. This past weekend felt like a collective effort to grab onto normalcy while it’s here. And at the same time, soldiers are still heading out—to the borders, to Gaza. The war hasn’t disappeared. It’s just quieter because the world is focused on gas prices.

I’ve spoken to friends who live in Israel but were born in the U.S. and Canada. They are both amazed or unsettled by how quickly things snap back here. And they’re right—it’s jarring. One moment, we’re in survival mode. The next, it’s back to work, back to routine. Schools reopened. Offices filled. Life resumed. Just like that. And there is 0 discussion about it. Definitely nothing formal. 

Honestly, I thought Thursday—coming right after Passover and everything we’ve been through—should have been a national pause. A day to breathe. To process. To acknowledge. Maybe some addresses to the nation. Bulletins in different languages. But no. It was business as usual. That is not how I would do things if I were the Prime Minister or even the head of a city. 

This is a crazy place. And it ALWAYS HAS BEEN. Despite the complete and utter farce that there was peace in this region before 1948. This place has always been in and out of peace. It just depends which area and which time of year. But there has always been trouble. 

Even when it doesn’t make sense. Even when it’s hard. Israel continues. 

—Shanna