Promises

"No, no, shh," Mama squeezed me so hard I cried out. She loosened her grip, but did not let go of me. I was crying, and I mean big time, into her sweater. "Shh, honey, cry it out," Mama said. I could tell by the tone of her voice that I needed to quiet down, and I tried, but I was no good silently crying.

After a long time, I seemed as dried up as a desert. Mama looked into my wet face, her gray eyes serious. "Are you ready to go? We have to-"

"Mama," I whispered, "I'm not safe here." She squeezed me again.

"Honey, you aren't safe unless you are in England. And--and you need to go now." Mama was getting choked up, and this scared me, because I had rarely seen her cry.

"Mama... I don't want to get onto the train," I murmured. "Some Jews get on trains and never-" I could hear my own voice starting to wobble. "And never come back."

"This is different," Mama told me. "I'll be coming to find you as soon as the war is over. I promise. You'll be fine, my love. Your foster family will take good care of you."

"I don't want a foster family to take care of me!" My voice was stronger now, and rising with anger. "I want you to take care of me!"

"I can't!" Mama seemed to be more urgent with her words. "You get on that train now! I don't want you to die!"

"I don't want you to die either!"

Mama pushed me forward. A salty tear dropped down on my cheek as I made my way into the train. I leaned out the window, and held my hand out to Mama. She took it, and said, "Whatever happens, my dear, I promise that I will come and find you. And we'll be together again."

"Are you sure?" My voice was so quiet I was sure Mama could not hear me over the loudness of the train station. But she did.

"Of course I'm sure," she said. "I love you. Some non-Jewish friends of ours say they can hide me behind a wall. In a hidden room. The Nazis won't find me there."

The train started to slowly move, and Mama tried to let go of my hand, but I gripped into hers so tight it became red. "Don't leave me!" I shouted. The train was starting to go faster, and Mama had to walk quite fast to keep up. She gave my hand one last kiss, her eyes welling up with tears. "I love you," she said again, pulled her hand from mine, and disappeared into the crowd of weeping parents.

I got down from the window and leaned into my seat, hoping that Mama was right, hoping that she would come for me after the war was over, and that I would be alright, and that my father, who could not come, would be safe, too.

But, despite Mama's promises, I never saw them again.