Sunday, November 9, 2014

The Pretty Lady

My dad was always bringing people home and most of the time they were really interesting. One time he bought home this really cute guy. Well, as a presumptuous little girl I took a liking to him.  It must have been pathetic. I don't remember anything but him being nice to me. Robert Shane I thank you for not hurting a little girls early crush on you.

And then there was the pretty lady who came one day to our house. There was a man with her, but something about her drew me to sit by her side. The sadness in her brought me close and kept me there.

We had a house full that day--don't ask me why--but there had to be a house full or she would not have been sitting on the piano seat, but she was. I sat on the floor right next to her.

She was in a suit, a gray suit, I know I thought that the color was not a good one for her.  It brought out all the sadness that was inside her. 

And then I saw it. 

The tattoo on her wrist. 

That series of numbers. She was rubbing them softly. 

I asked--What's that??

My dad came unglued. 

I had done it again. Asked a question when I should have been silent. Typical me. I looked at her with tears in my eyes, and said--sorry. 

She wouldn't let dad punish me. She looked at me and said--some bad men did this to me and a lot of others. And then she patted my cheek and said--don't ever forget. 

How could I forget?? 

The holocaust is the most heinous thing to happen to humanity EVER. 

Don't forget!!