Renewal.
March 19, 1944 Munkacs Hungary.
fifteen, and your normal life changes in a blink. you are forced into a ghetto with your family, and few belongings-a warm sweater, your nightgown, hairbrush, a book. yelling, pushing, shoving, lines, crowding, unknowing. so many people, so small a space.
a boxcar filled beyond capacity, like cattle, your family, friends, neighbors. no comfort, no air to breathe-the fresh free air you knew only weeks before.
arriving, not sure where, fire, unpleasant smells, crowds of people, soldiers, guns, hollering-what are they saying? fire. unknowing. desperate to stay together with mother and younger siblings...choosing to lie to save your life. never seeing your mother or siblings again. the mother who raised you, nurtured you, taught you to bake and to love.
fire.
ink injected into your arm...A-5876...your identity. a number in a log that is counted every morning. every evening. counted for hours, standing for hours-summer sun, autumn chilliness that makes your nose tingle with it’s bite & makes your bones shudder, icy morning frosts-you can’t feel your toes. you are 15.
you work long hours. menial jobs-separating, sorting, making pile after pile of belongings that once were precious personal property of your family, friends, neighbors. hiding bits of food. repetitive tasks of uncountable hours. sorting. soldering. menial labor. marching in the cold, newspapers shoved in your clothing for warmth. digging ditches to fill and re-dig again. hunger, lice, starvation sickness. you are 15.
springtime in germany on a train bound for parts unknown. you wake to a pastoral scene. a man on a bicycle discovers a train...human skeletons in rags he offers his sandwiches, his lunch, a small gesture-the first in a long time. and so begins your renewal....
sick, you board a ferry to sweden where you heal your body and bones...your stomach too small to fill, your soul patches itself and you feel the sun and the warmth of kindness and a renewal to a more normal world of being a teenager...school, laughter, friends; in one word-glorious!
the past locked away into a secret space only you revisit, when you are baking the cakes & cookies your mother taught you to make. you are 15.
fifteen, and your normal life changes in a blink. you are forced into a ghetto with your family, and few belongings-a warm sweater, your nightgown, hairbrush, a book. yelling, pushing, shoving, lines, crowding, unknowing. so many people, so small a space.
a boxcar filled beyond capacity, like cattle, your family, friends, neighbors. no comfort, no air to breathe-the fresh free air you knew only weeks before.
arriving, not sure where, fire, unpleasant smells, crowds of people, soldiers, guns, hollering-what are they saying? fire. unknowing. desperate to stay together with mother and younger siblings...choosing to lie to save your life. never seeing your mother or siblings again. the mother who raised you, nurtured you, taught you to bake and to love.
fire.
ink injected into your arm...A-5876...your identity. a number in a log that is counted every morning. every evening. counted for hours, standing for hours-summer sun, autumn chilliness that makes your nose tingle with it’s bite & makes your bones shudder, icy morning frosts-you can’t feel your toes. you are 15.
you work long hours. menial jobs-separating, sorting, making pile after pile of belongings that once were precious personal property of your family, friends, neighbors. hiding bits of food. repetitive tasks of uncountable hours. sorting. soldering. menial labor. marching in the cold, newspapers shoved in your clothing for warmth. digging ditches to fill and re-dig again. hunger, lice, starvation sickness. you are 15.
springtime in germany on a train bound for parts unknown. you wake to a pastoral scene. a man on a bicycle discovers a train...human skeletons in rags he offers his sandwiches, his lunch, a small gesture-the first in a long time. and so begins your renewal....
sick, you board a ferry to sweden where you heal your body and bones...your stomach too small to fill, your soul patches itself and you feel the sun and the warmth of kindness and a renewal to a more normal world of being a teenager...school, laughter, friends; in one word-glorious!
the past locked away into a secret space only you revisit, when you are baking the cakes & cookies your mother taught you to make. you are 15.