A Birthday Journey
I woke up to the warm, bright, morning sun shining through my window. I sat up straight and stretched while I scanned my room from beginning to the end. My eyes moved swiftly across the blank, white walls then paused at a single calendar hanging on the bare wall. The calendar showed rows of red markings crossing out the days that passed. A lonely square followed the rest, decorated with a sparkly balloon. Then I remembered, it was my birthday. I felt my head hit the light, feathery pillow as I layed back down thinking about how to spend this once a year day.
“After all,” I muttered to myself. “Mother isn’t here, what’s a birthday without her?”
I stared at the flat, foggy ceiling, my mind racing back to my previous birthday.
“Happy birthday, sweetie! Time to get up and devour your stack of pancakes!” my mother whispered excitedly.
I closed my eyes and smiled at the vivid memory. Every year, that extra special stack of pancakes would be a different flavor. It would also grow taller, adding a pancake for each year I’ve matured. I licked my lips as the image of a tower of fourteen chocolate chip layers entered my senses. I laughed quietly to myself remembering how I gobbled down those delicious, fluffy cakes. That’s how it was, mother always filling the rare days with endless surprises.
I sat up and huddled into a tight ball, recalling what happened next. My eyes burned with raging fire as streams of fierce tears poured down my cool face. I thought back, it was the last year of World War ll, the time where the Holocaust was already becoming a part of history. Mother and I lived in the neighborhood where the Germans never seemed to want to bother us. That’s why something heart-wrenching happened unexpectedly that day. We were entertaining ourselves with a game of hide and go seek at a park on the street of Copenhagen. We watched some Jewish friends sit around and relax in the gold, blazing sun. It was almost as if the bush I passed that very day was the start of horror movie. I skipped past the razor bush to seek my mother just as a familiar, piercing scream reached for my ears.
“Helen!” called the voice. “Help me!”
I whipped my head around to find two Nazi soldiers wrestling my mother as they struggled to drag her away. People rushed away from the scene as I charged for my mother without a second thought. I grasped her hand just as two other soldiers ripped us apart. I thrusted my arms to free myself but, their grip was too strong. I watched the cruel soldiers throw my mother along with the others already on the truck. The truck drove away with the engine echoing in the trembling neighborhood. Once it disappeared around the corner, the soldiers finally loosened their hold before letting me go completely. The last that thing I remember was hitting my head on the hard concrete before collapsing of defeat.
I shuddered at the horrible thought. I started sobbing at the memory that kept me awake for months after the incident.
Why didn’t I have the strength to run after mother? Why didn’t I go save her?
Hours passed and late afternoon came, and the glum sun was starting to set.
“Mother, where are you?” I mumbled. My body tensed up after taking in what had just happened.
I stood up, enraged with myself while trying to balance myself without falling over again. I thought back to what just happened a few hours ago and realized what I had to do. I broke into a sprint, following the tracks the truck left behind in the soft, muddy dirt.
I ran for hours, following the track that lead me to the gate of a prison camp. I dashed behind a bush, hiding from soldiers that took the place of two other soldiers’ guarding spot. I tucked my chin between my knees and sucked in a breath as I thought of a worthy plan.
I’ll go when they leave for the night shift soldiers to come, I thought.
So, I stayed there waiting for my plan to take action. My body ached from head to toe, so I sat there on the hard, frosty ground.
I woke up to the cool breeze hitting my face. The night sky fell, showing the reflection of the twinkling diamonds in the sky reflecting against the darkness. I inhaled the fresh scent of pine trees and listened to the wind’s howl. The air then became the smell of gas and a loud rumble shook through the ground. Two sets of big, shiny boots stepped on the ground and hurried to the back.
“Hurry up!” German voices shouted. “Get out!”
Scared whimpers came from the back as one by one, the people came out. I waited for them all to file out to see what would happen. I gasped as I saw who the last person was Mother. The emotions came over again and in a flash, I forgot all about my plan. I ran straight for my mother, ignoring all of the possible consequences.
“Mother!” I screamed.
Mother looked up and instantly bursted into tears shouting my name and struggling to pull her hands free. I looked around and saw soldiers running toward me. I ran into my mother’s arms and broke into a sob. A set of big, strong hands squeezed my arms and tried to pull me away. Angry feet stomped toward us and yelled in a thick German accent.
“Everyone, let go of her!” the voice boomed with authority.
The commotion stopped and the soldiers immediately dropped their hands. My mother took me in and held onto me in a tight hug. The officer turned his head and gave mother a cold stare. Mother slowly loosened her grip and finally dropped her hands like the others. The commander slowly turned to look at me and gave me a smirk.
“How old are you?” questioned the officer.
I turned to look at my mother while recalling what she said to me two months ago. I remembered mother’s words. “You must lie about your age if anyone ever asks,” instructed mother. “Make yourself look like an innocent, little child. Then leave. Run. Go anywhere to protect yourself.”
I zoned back into time and cried over how much my mother cared for me. I was thankful that she loved me so much and that she was willing to sacrifice her own life for mine. I realized at the time that not listening to her would kill me. So, I promised her. I was going to protect myself for her.
I looked into my mother’s worried eyes and knew that I couldn’t break the promise now.
I turned back around to face the officer and put on my scared eyes.
“Please don’t hurt me officer, please. I’m only 10 years old,” I pleaded.
He examined me from head to toe as if to check if I did look 10. After all, I was 14. Since my mother and father were both short, I was short also. So, my lie was believable. Plus, who would hurt a 10 year old little girl?
The officer looked back up, greeting me with intense, icy-blue eyes. I shivered as I waited for him to answer.
“Fine. If you want to survive, I suggest you leave right this moment.”
“What’s going to happen to my mother?” I asked quietly.
“She is going to work for us. Don’t worry little child, go on, go live your life. You’re lucky you get a chance to keep it.”
“Please officer, don’t hurt my mother!” I pleaded.
The officer softened his expression then gave me a small, sincere smile. “I can’t promise you anything,” he responded sadly.
There was silence as he waited for me to process his words. “Nehmen Sie sie!” the officer commanded after the silence.
The group of soldiers witnessing the scene pushed the poor prisoners through the gate that was going to lead to death. While being impulsive, I ran for my mother and tugged on her until as a whole, they all stopped. The officer stormed up to me and gave me a stern look.
“Get out of here now! Or I’ll kill your mother!” the officer shouted in my face. “Unless you are brave enough to take your mother’s spot,” he challenged.
I took a step back and shook in fear. I kept my head down and said as softly as possible, “Could I speak to my mother one last time?”
The officer jerked his head towards me and gave me a cold, sharp glance as he thought about it. “You don’t have long,” he warned.
I stepped forward and gave Mother a crushing hug. Mother bent down to my ear and said words that were only meant for me to hear. “Be grateful for what you have and always accept those who try to help you,” she whispered into my ear. “Never forget this, I love you. And protect yourself for me.”
I nodded against Mother’s chest, silently telling her that I understood. I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the loose tears fall into a pool of sadness. The soldiers separated us and urged Mother to move.
“Get going!” the voice boomed. “Or else you’re staying here!” He took out his gun and aimed it directly at my forehead.
I turned my head and stared into a set of red, swollen eyes that pleaded for me to leave. I stood there thinking about how selfish I was. Finally, the Germans couldn’t take it anymore and got agitated. They started yelling at the group and moved on without me. I watched my mother being pushed away, never breaking the silent conversation between our somber eyes.
I scrunch myself up tightly under my covers and tried to shut out the mournful memory. I couldn’t. I cried and cried.
I watched the back of mother’s head disappear into the ink distance before I fell to my knees and let my head hang from shame.
What have I done? How could I let my own mother die?
******************************************************
I wandered through the empty, open streets of Germany as I thought about how cruel I was to leave Mother. I was homeless. I was lost. I was alone. I stole food from abandoned German shops to plug the sound of my rumbling stomach. I slept underneath trees for shelter. I wept for days, longing for a home. It was enough for me to survive but Mother was gone. To me, nothing else mattered.
Days passed and soon those days turned into weeks. Four months later, I was sleeping under a maple tree when a set of steady arms lifted me. I was weak and beaten. I soon dozed off to the slow rocking of the stranger’s steps.
I woke up laying on a small cot. I lifted myself up slowly and looked around. The room was filled with girls that were dirty, tired, and hungry.
They must be like me, I thought.
An old lady walked in and rang a little bell. The room was soon awake and we were all told to follow the lady into a room of showers. A unison of giggles and laughter exploded as the lady pushed a button. Hot, steamy water to came rushing out the shower heads. I smiled for the first time in months and I finally felt safe. For a little bit, I actually felt happy.
The lady provided us with clean, fresh clothes and rush us all into the dining room.
The aroma of warm soup and toasted bread immediately hit our senses.. We all sighed on cue as we remembered memories of food. The kitchen ladies served a bowl of soup to each girl sitting around the table. As we ate in silence, one by one, we all started to weep. That’s when I realized we were possible orphans. Somewhere out there, our parents could be suffering, or worse, dead.
When bedtime came around, the girls gathered together and told stories of their pasts. The lady came dancing in to deliver great news.
“The Germans lost the war. It’s all over and you will all have a family soon.”
The muted room roared with cheers and joyful cries.
Months later, a nice couple came through the doors to adopted one of us. They pointed to me with a smile on their faces. “We’d like to adopt her, “ they said.
*******************************************************
I got out of bed and went through my brand new birthday clothes to find the perfect outfit for today. I wore my favorite color yellow, which was also Mother’s favorite color. I thought back to mother’s words and smiled as I stuck my head out of the window to look at the bright blue sky with puffs of marshmallow cotton. I felt the presence of my mother shining through the golden rays poking through the soft clouds.
I skipped out my bedroom and down the wooden stairs to greet my new parents.
“Happy birthday Honey! Look what we have for you!” said Mom.
“Good morning, Mom,” I responded with an ecstatic smile.
Mom got me to sit down and slid a plate of pancakes fight in front of me. They were chocolate chip pancakes. And, there were 15 of them.
I stared at the plate as a thousand memories flew back at me. My eyes started to water, then soon, they began shedding tears. I caught the delicate drops one by one, trying to hold it in. Soon enough, I started weeping, finally letting go of all of the sorrow and stress building on the inside of me over the last year.
“What’s wrong dear?” Mom asked looking concerned.
“Nothing, Mother used to give me my favorite chocolate chip pancakes for my birthday every year.” I answered as clear droplets glided down my face.
Mom came around the counter and gave a comforting hug. “Then we’ll keep the tradition.”
I smiled up at her and began devouring the pancakes as I thought about Mother’s words again. “Be grateful for what you have and always accept those who try to help you.” The words rang in my head and I realized that maybe my new family wouldn’t be so bad. It could be a new start.
I went outside for a calm walk by myself at a local park. The park reminded me of the memories made in Copenhagen. I closed my eyes and drew in a big, fresh breath.
“Mother,” I whispered. “I hope you’re alright. I’m going to be happy here but I’ll miss you. I love you Mother.”
I looked up at the light blue sky and thought about how mother would be happy looking down at me from above.
From behind, a small, familiar voice whispered my name.
“Helen,” the voice said, “I’m here.”
My eyes brimmed with tears and my heart skipped a beat. I turned around and stood in complete shock.
It was Mother. Mother was here.
Minutes passed with Mother and I looking into each other’s eyes while trying to realize that this is real.
Mother spoke first, with wetness brimming her joyful eyes. “I finally found you,” she said, hardly breathing at all. Without hesitating, I ran towards Mother, wrapping my arms tight around her as she coiled me in.
I walked in my house then introduced Mother to Mom and Dad. My new parents decided to help Mother and I with buying our own house and paying for school.
I visit Mom and Dad daily and thank them each day and tell them how grateful I am to be a part of their family.
One year later, and here I am. Mother and I live in our own house now and Mother stays by my side as I work hard in school. And I couldn’t be more grateful to have Mother here with me again and, a new family.
Where I was, Where I am, Where I will be
I am from vanilla cake,
from the sugar, the flour.
I am from laundry detergent,
the smell of fresh, clean clothes.
I am from the scent of fish,
from rice,
and the heat of flaming peppers.
I am from the country of red,
filled of bright yellow stars.
I come from the land of diligent workers,
the “smart ones”,
the “stand out”,
“do better”,
and “never give up”.
I am from the photo book,
that overflows with memories.
I am from my living room wall,
that tells tales from the years I’ve grown.
I come from the proud awards,
the pleasant dreams,
and polishing, inspirational art.
I am from the doing it right and well,
and the land of honestly.
I’m from generosity,
cooperation,
and thankfulness.
I am from the joy of family,
The passion of music,
And the sweetness of coconut.
I come from strong friendships and relationships,
and fun times in the basement.
I am a dandelion in a open field,
not knowing which direction I’ll go,
but still,
I wait to chase the dream I hold.