Memorial Day part Deux

I left it yesterday with this story to tell. It's about a young woman who came to our house---I don't know when. I was just a kid.

A VERY curious kid.

Anyway this beautiful petite woman came to our house - why, I don't know. We always had people coming to our house. People visited in those days.

All the chairs were taken so she sat on the piano bench. I remember how tiny she was. Not much taller than me. But of course, I was a lot heavier. I was a chunky kid.

She was sad.

And that drew me to her.

Sometime went by and I saw something on her left arm just above her wrist. It looked like she had been hurt and so I asked her what had happened.

My dad got angry with me. But the lady stopped him from getting onto me about my curiosity.

She told me of the bad men who had taken her from her home and tattoo the numbers on her and everyone in her family,

It was years before I knew that she had been in a German camp. I never saw her again, but I have never forgotten the sadness in her.

Memorial Day. A day for us to reflect on those who have gone on.

A day for us to remember.

More. Linda