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Even in the worst of times, life takes on a rhythm and the days blur into one another.
What happens when stories like theirs are lost?
What happens when there’s no one left to pass your experience on to, or you just can’t bring yourself to share it?
I knew with absolute certainty that small problems in a country can become immense tragedies when left unchecked.
It started small in Germany. It even started small in Poland, long before the occupation. It started with a small group of people harassing and vandalizing and desecrating, and it ended with trainloads of my countrymen shipped to furnaces and dumped into a river.
Life has a way of shattering our expectations, of leaving our hopes in pieces without explanation. But when there’s love in a family, the fragments left behind from our shattered dreams can always be pulled together again, even if the end result is a mosaic.
