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For some reason, Galina’s mother had been turning up in her thoughts more often since the war began. Galina didn’t think about her with defiance, the way she used to before her mother’s death and for…
When I was twelve, I read The Diary of Anne Frank.
I identified with her having to live
stories above a busy street
over a business, and having to keep quiet
for hours at a time.
I’d pad about on…
The officer stared at them grimly.
“Now,” Mama said in a strong voice, “you have seen that we are not hiding anything. May my children go back to bed?”
The officer ignored her. Suddenly he grabbed a…
I thought of the beautiful angel in the picture that had hung over our bed before the war. Her giant wings hovering over, almost enveloping two children crossing a bridge over a ravine. Please make my…