Broken Beginnings Prologue-Chapter Two

Prologue:

November.10.1938

There’s broken glass everywhere. The world turned upside down when we were sleeping and now our streets are covered in shards of broken glass. Businesses were destroyed, synagogues, doctors, watchmakers, all manners of stores. The Nazi’s seem to have taken the greatest pleasure in the destruction of our Synagogues!

Naomi slept through it all, the glass shattering, the cries of Rabbi’s and business owners. Naomi sleeps like a rock, on nights like last night I wish I could too.

Men are taken away, some say to work camps.

Father has gone off, trying to get passes for us to leave Poland. It is no longer safe for us to stay here, we must leave for our safety, especially Naomi’s. We face great danger because we are Jews, because Naomi is different, we are almost nine nine, identical twins, but something went wrong when Naomi came, something went wrong, and now Naomi forever has the mind of a four year old. Ima says having a sister like Naomi has made me grow up before my years, but I would not change it for anything I love Naomi.

Mother has tears in her eyes, as she looks out the windows, and sees the destruction, it is a sad day. Mother does not easily cry, but how can you not in these? Even Naomi knows something is not right.

Naomi is awake, I must do what I can to keep her calm, I’ve given her my old doll to cling to.

It is time for me to give Father his coffee though; the doll distracts Naomi. She seems to be okay. I’m grateful for that.

I can only pray that tomorrow is a better day.

Chapter One:

September 04. 2018:

“I can’t believe it.” I told my best friend Nadia, who was sitting in the front passenger seat. “We’re in College.”

“Believe it.” Nadia said smiling. “Let the fun begin.”

I knew she was joking; we were both excellent students, with no plans to make college a time for partying.

Nadia and I had graduated in June from High School, with honors. I had my life mapped out; I was going to be an author, something I had proudly proclaimed when I was six, and had held up a Junie B Jones no one dared doubt me. Mother and Bobe never discounted my goals and dreams, though.

A moment later, our favorite song was playing on the radio, Fight Song. A moment later I was singing along. I loved the song; it reminded me of Bobe, the way it spoke of strength, of fighting through the tough times, and Bobe certainly had her share of those.

I wanted to write because of Bobe, more than any other story it was hers I wanted to tell.

The first day of class at college had gone well for both Nadia and I. We were basking in that when in an instant it seemed a faded blue F150, with an ugly Swastika painted on its side.

We were being targeted, and I did not have to guess why, the bumper sticker on the car that said “The Proud Granddaughter of a Holocaust Survivor, the way he cried out “Die Jews,!” as he ran us into that giant oak tree.

He had meant to kill us with that truck, no doubt about that.

I fell unconscious for a moment or two, waking up, trying to move, but feeling pinned down. I looked in the passenger seat to find Nadia unconscious, blood dripping from her head and face.

I could not lose my best friend. She was the closest thing I had to my sister. The thought gave me the strength I needed to reach for my cell phone and dial help.

G-d let it not be too late. We need help. We can’t die here. Nadia needs to get to the hospital, we both do, but Nadia is worse.

I turned my head, looking at Nadia once again. I watched the rising and falling of her chest and let out a sigh of relief.

Babula, you are going to make it, Nadia too!

It was Bobe; she was with us, her presence so powerful I could almost touch her. She had died when Nadia and I were fourteen, only weeks before we started our freshmen year. She had been in her nineties, but it was an accident that took her life. Thankfully she had not suffered.

I had promised I would tell her story someday, and as I sat in the car wrapped around the tree, I knew that was a promise; I needed to keep.

Babula you will honor their legacies by the life you lead, they will live on in you. You will honor them and me in everything good that you do.

She was there with me, keeping me company as I fought to get myself and Nadia out of the car.

Chapter Two:

November.15.1938

They don’t care who they kill, whether it’s a Father, whose providing for his family, or a Rabbi in a Synagogue, they will find any excuse to murder them in the streets, or take them off to what they say are death camps, but I know better than that. I’ve heard the whispers of torture and murder in those places. I’ve seen the fear in grown men’s eyes.

Mother, and Father try to remain calm, but with whispers of Dachau and Buchenwald looming over us, it is hard not to be afraid. The whispers of the torture and murder that happens in those camps, the way they work the men to death and do even worse. I may only be a girl of only almost ten, but sometimes the adults forget I am there. Mother says I may be only ten years old, but I have the heart and soul of someone much older. But that does not mean I do not get afraid or angry, because I do.

Why is hate such a powerful force?

I cannot let Naomi know that I am afraid though, it will only scare her and I don’t want that.

I miss the life we had before the Nazi’s came! They came and destroyed everything we knew, and then destroyed us too. We’ve had everything we value taken from us including those we love. My cousin Lydia’s father, our dear Uncle was taken to Dachau on Kristallnacht. I worry too that our Father will be taken, then what will we do.

Mother looks as if she is growing old, in a way we all are. Even little Children have the saddened eyes of those whose seen a lifetime of pain.

Poor Lydia, I hear that emptiness in every word she writes.