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You were only
four years old, but the memory is so vivid. As if it were captured, moment by
moment, by an artist sitting nearby. A fresh canvas for every heartbeat.
The confusion is most prominent in
your memory. A blanket over the world – yet it still didn’t manage to muffle
the harsh German words that pierced the mist of the unknown.
Your mother’s hand engulfed yours.
Her grip was stronger than usual – her desperation fumbled with your innocence,
threatening to rip through the screen that protected you from reality.
Once, your brother stumbled. You had
all been walking for so long, and you recognized the exhaustion in his eyes.
Being five years older than yourself, he had seemed to have a limitless energy.
This was the first time you’d seen him worn out. He stumbled – then, a sound
that reminded you of thunder…but it was shorter, perhaps like the crack of a
whip. It made him fall, as if sleep had suddenly overtaken him. For some
reason, your mother cried out, but even that didn’t wake him up. One of the men
shouted at her and she fell silent.
You looked up at her, and she was
shaking. You asked her something…ah, yes, you asked if she was cold. But she
shook her head. Just keep walking, she told you. Don’t ask any more questions,
darling. Her voice sounded different.
You walked for days, but the sun
never went down. The moon never rose. You walked for days.
A man shouted something. Your mother
pulled you to a stop. He yelled something else, and suddenly, your father was
leaving. He didn’t say a word. All the fathers were gone. The older brothers
were gone. Why did you leave your brother back there, on the road? You were
sure he’d much rather go with your father than sleep on the ground.
You stood in a line with your
mother…and soon after, there were flames. That was all you knew, before you
entered this beautiful world.
Hell to heaven.
When you got here, you found your brother.
You asked him where your father went.
Auschwitz, he told you. Don’t watch
him. He’ll be joining us soon.
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