Berlin, autumn 1944
The wind blows from the east, promising a cold winter, I thought, when I walked through the Park.
I love those colors of leafs, falling from trees and dancing in the wind. For a moment I feel like a child. I laugh because I am a child in years. I came to this confused world 8 years ago in 1936.
Berlin just fare welled the golden age of the swinging 20’s and 30’s and entered the darkest period known to Europe.
But no one knew. My mother, a charming woman in her mid-30’s sometimes holds me very tight, singing a comforting song about peace in paradise.
She was the paradise for me and my little brother Lothar. Dad was gone. With his mind numb from propaganda, he said, he would be back in a blink of an eye. It is for our country, he said.
That is now 3 years ago.
I take a deep breath and run into a pile of leafs, hoping no one sees me. Tossing around those leafs; I pretend I am with my best friend Emma Berg.
Mama told me that she and her family are taking a long vacation and I was sad, that she not even said good bye to me. But I emphasized that nobody wants to stay in this place anymore.
It is cold and we are hungry.
Then a strange leaf swirls around my nose. It has something written on it- like a page of a book.
I grew up knowing that books can be dangerous. A free spirit can be dangerous. Being different can be dangerous. Being curios can be dangerous.
Obey and be quiet- the affirmation of a German girl.
My Mother was different. She loved life and the occasional glass of red wine. I could die for a glass of French wine, she joked often, knowing that this would be the case.
My curiosity won and I carefully started reading the remaining text on the leaf.
I stopped by the middle when this sentence appeared.
“Anyone who sees beauty never grows old.”
My desire to read more grew instantly, so I nervously searched the entire park for another leaf. I found it. In front of an entrance.
Through the lattice gate I could see some stairs going down. Thinking about it, made my heart pound.
I cannot- I shall not. I will go home.
The entire night I turned around, asking me what could be behind this entrance.
We are only allowed to learn what was given to us, I reminded myself. Curiosity kills the cat.
Emilie, be a good girl.
I sneaked out of the sleeping room and saw Mama in the kitchen with a glass red wine. She sees me, smiles and starts singing a French song. That moment opened my eyes. I was clear.
The next morning I ran as fast as I could to the park. I heard the sirens, so I had to be back home quick.
I sneaked into the entrance and opened the door.
Shelves full of books. So many books. I cried.
Kafka, Brecht, Tucholski, Einstein….I have never heard of those writers. I quickly grabbed two books, hid them under my coat and my learning journey began.
Years later, when I was proud mother of an 8 year girl, I remembered and realized that there is no greater gift to give to your children than the freedom of choice how and what to learn.
- Emilie
No comments:
Post a Comment