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CLICK THE FROG AND HOP ALONG
Word Count: 100
OF BLESSED MEMORY
“I wish I’d known you better, Grandpa.”
My grandfather smiles at me from a black and white photo.
The few memories I have are shadowy and vague. The words ‘austere’ and ‘distant’ best describe him. My mother’s father—an enigma.
I regret never asking him about his life as a Jewish boy in Czarist Russia.
“Why did you flee to America?”
“Oy, don’t ask. You should never know such tzuris,” might he have answered? What horrors lurked behind those faded eyes?
I smile back at his monochrome image. “I hope you’re proud of my writing, Grandpa. You are my inspiration.”