The end is nearly within reach, so close that it almost feels tangible. The keys they’ve held onto for months seem to be sliding into the locks of their old homes, the familiar doorknobs turning in their hands. The thought of sinking into their own beds for the first time in over a year promises a peaceful rest—just a few more days to go.

After 15 Months of War, Gazans Dream of Returning Home

Two nights before the cease-fire in Gaza was announced, 15-year-old Layan al-Mohtaseb dreamed of returning to her bedroom in Gaza City, cleaning it as she did before her family had to flee because of the war.

“This time, it feels like we’re truly going home,” she said.

For many, “home” may only be a distant hope, depending on whether their houses have survived the months of destruction. And even though the cease-fire brings a fragile peace, there remains the possibility that fighting could resume after the initial six-week truce, should talks for a permanent agreement fail. Yet, across Gaza, people allowed themselves to dream of peace—the reunions, the embraces, the graves they’d visit. They knew that tears would flow, and they weren’t sure whether to call them tears of joy or sorrow.

The night the cease-fire deal was confirmed, the atmosphere was one of celebration. But in the days that followed, attention turned to preparations. As the Israeli security cabinet met to vote on the cease-fire and hostage release agreement, Palestinians were already looking for trucks, vans, or even donkey carts to move their belongings back to northern Gaza. They packed their tents, wondering where they would live if their homes were gone.https://svtoday.org/

Fedaa al-Rayyes, 40, was buying ingredients for festive sweets to mark the end of the war. But first, she wanted to search for relatives she hadn’t seen in months—to find out who had survived and mourn those who hadn’t.

“It’s impossible to describe this mixture of relief and sorrow,” she said. “I’m happy to be alive and grateful for the kindness of those who helped us. But I am also deeply sad—for the family and friends we lost, and for the neighborhood we’ll return to without them.”

There were also practical concerns. She reminded her children to stay away from anything that could still be dangerous, like unexploded ordnance scattered across Gaza—a lingering threat that could claim more lives in the months or years to come.

For the more than two million people in Gaza, most of whom have spent much of the war living in tents, schools, or with relatives, returning home became the only thought that occupied their minds. Even if their homes were damaged, even if they had been reduced to rubble and ash, the desire to return remained.

Manal Silmi, 34, a psychologist working for an international aid group, planned to first hug her mother and siblings and “cry, releasing all the pain we’ve been holding for these 15 months,” she said.

Then, the journey home would begin. According to the cease-fire agreement, people displaced from northern Gaza would be allowed to return after seven days. Her family was already looking for a large van to transport their tents and bedding back north. Her friends and the few relatives left in Gaza City were already making plans to meet at the crossing point that divides northern and southern Gaza.

“We’ll hug, cry, and thank God over and over for surviving this war,” she said.

Al-Hassan al-Harazeen, 23, a college senior studying computer science, knew his family’s home in eastern Gaza City had been destroyed. But he still planned to return there as soon as the cease-fire took effect.

He imagined spray-painting his family’s name on any brick still intact, picturing himself sitting on the rubble, “embracing those broken stones as if they were a part of me.”

Then, he would visit his grandfather’s grave, where they had buried him at the start of the war, and recite the opening verses of the Quran.

Even as the cease-fire deal was being announced, Israel was continuing its heavy bombardment of Gaza. Two of Jamal Mortaja’s employees from his solar-panel business had been killed the day before. Mr. Mortaja, 65, said he would keep them in his thoughts when he returned to Gaza City to see what was left of his home and check on his stores at the al-Ansar roundabout.

Raed al-Gharabli, despite his home’s destruction, also planned to return to Gaza City just to say goodbye before the rubble was cleared. He wanted to walk through his neighborhood, Shuja’iyya, greeting neighbors who had endured the months of war. He would take his makeshift tent from Deir al-Balah, where he had sought refuge, and set it up next to the ruins of his house.

“I can’t wait for this moment to be real,” said Mr. al-Gharabli, 48, a tailor. “If I could, I’d fly straight north and land on the rubble of my home.”

To make the journey easier, he said his family would leave some belongings with neighbors in Deir al-Balah, where displaced people had come to rely on the kindness of those who had once been strangers.

In fact, there was even a sense of nostalgia for the camaraderie that had developed among temporary neighbors.

After his home in Khan Younis was destroyed, Ismail al-Sheikh, 39, a university lecturer, had moved to a nearby tent, where he bonded with two men living in neighboring tents. They spent their evenings reminiscing about life before the war began on October 7, 2023, and imagining what would come after the conflict ended. They spoke of the things they would do, the places they would go.

For Mr. al-Sheikh, who taught at al-Aqsa University, the dream wasn’t about something extraordinary. He just wanted his life back—the normal routine of teaching, spending evenings with friends at the Titanic Restaurant in Khan Younis. He had heard that the Titanic had collapsed into rubble.

Now, with the end of the war in sight, his new friends were preparing to return to Gaza City.

“I’ll miss those gatherings deeply,” said Mr. al-Sheikh. “It’s a true mix of emotions—joy for their return, sadness for the farewells, and hope for what comes next.”