The Keeper of Hidden Books

by Madeline Martin

Suddenly Zofia understood the recurrent sore spot in her mind that had been opened by their discussion of Metamorphosis. It was her own shame for how she had regarded her mother, the woman who incessantly sacrificed for the family.

“This is a story about making the choices you know are right, even when the rest of the world feels confusing and disorienting. It’s knowing who you are and choosing kindness and love; like the Time Traveller did.”

Another time, Zofia would have drawn away from her mother’s touch, repelled by her own doubts of Matka’s affection. Now, she found comfort in the clasp of their hands, two women united against the world. The way mother and daughter ought to be.

Matka pinched her little gold cross. “I will pray.” For her, seeking divine counsel was the ultimate aid anyone could offer.

Truth!

Good books were like amazing sunsets or awe-inspiring landscapes, better enjoyed with someone else. There was no greater experience in the world than sharing the love of a book, discussing its finer points, and reliving the story all over again.

It whispered to her in the silence, a promise only a book can make to a reader, to offer a journey unique to them, tailored to the path that life had led them.

There was power in literature. Brilliant and undeniable. Books inspired free thought and empathy, an overall understanding and acceptance of everyone. In the pages of books that were burned and banned and ripped apart for pulping, Zofia had found herself. These were the parts of her that were human and strong and loving, parts that understood lives she had never led.

We cannot let the atrocities and persecution of the Jews slip between the cracks of history. We cannot allow education to be stifled or cultures to be erased or books to be banned. Nor can we let the memory of those brave men and women who fought for freedom and what is right disappear in the turning pages of time. The world also needs to remember to never take for granted what has been gifted to us through the sacrifice of others: the right to an education and learning, the power and luxury of freedom, and the beauty to appreciate the routine of simple, everyday life. I have died a thousand deaths, but that did not define me. Instead, I lived a thousand lives and it is for that reason that I now can write our story for future generations to always remember.