Yesterday, April 19, was Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day. In honor of the 6 million, some of them family I never knew, I offer this piece.
“You see this rock?” Zipporah asks her thirteen-year-old great-granddaughter.
“What’s so special about it?” Anya yawns.
“Underneath this rock…half your age…I hid from them. Papa told me not to move or make a sound, no matter what.”
Anya’s half-closed eyes snap open. “Then what happened, Bubbie?”
“Blam! I held my breath. Mama fell. I didn’t cry. Mud filled my nose. Dear God, I wanted to cry.
“Papa sang a prayer, ‘Magnified and Sanctified be His Great name…’
“Bang! Papa never sang again.
“Today only water drips off this rock but on that day, my child, it dripped with something else.”