Free My Mother's Secret by J. L. Witterick Page A

sun.
    I remember the warmth of it shining through the window onto my face in my bedroom. How could I ever have found that annoying, and why did I close the blinds to go back to sleep?
    We have a daily ritual, my mother and I. She tells me to close my eyes as she paints beautiful pictures in my mind with her words, like she used to. Mesmerizing me with her voice, it often starts like this: “You are sleeping in your bed, and the sun is shining through your window, so you are sleeping in later this day. I wake you as we are about to have a big breakfast together. Papa, you, and I are sitting at our dining-room table, and we are eating scrambled eggs with toast and jam. We drink lots and lots of milk. We are so full now that we cannot eat another bite. You pack your books for school, and you give me a big hug before going off on your day.”
    We don’t dream of exotic trips or adventures anymore.
    We dream of our old life, and of our routines. We long to return to the world as we remembered it.
    I see that my father closes his eyes when my mother works her visual magic.
    He is soaking it all up, like I am.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    I N OUR PREVIOUS LIFE, our world revolved around my father.
    It seemed like my mother and I were just playing around until he came home.
    At the dinner table, we would hear about his patients, his operations, his views on politics, and so on.
    In our hiding place, my father is very quiet.
    Once in a while, through the dim lighting of a small lamp, I see him smile at me, but not much more.
    My mother, on the other hand, is always thinking of something for us to do. We have lessons in Yiddish. We do math problems from worksheets. It is endless activity.
    My father made sure there were many books for me to learn from.
    I see my mother brush my father’s hair, something I have never seen before.
    She tells us that we must be well prepared because one day we will leave Poland and go to Palestine.
    She has no doubt that we will all go there together and rebuild our life. “Helmut, you will again be the great doctor that you are, and Mikolaj, you will go to school there.”
    Her absolute certainty gives us hope and strength.
    I always thought that my mother could not live without my father, but it was the other way around.
    I hear my father say to my mother one day, “You are my
bashert
.”
    When my father is asleep, I whisper to my mother, “What is a
bashert
?”
    She says, “
Bashert
is a very special word in Yiddish. It means ‘soul mate.’ It means ‘destiny.’ If you find your
bashert
, it means that you have found the person that you were meant to be with—the person that completes you. It is the finest thing that your father could have said to me.”
    â€œDo you think I will be able to find my
bashert
, Mama?” I am worried. What if we never get out of here?
    She says, “Mikolaj, there is someone out there who is waiting to find you too. Maybe she is hiding, just like us. One day, we will all be free to find each other. I am sure of it.”
    That makes me feel better.

Chapter 42
    F ranciszka buys food and asks for it to be wrapped in newspapers instead of a paper bag. She doesn’t read, so buying a newspaper would be suspicious. She feeds my father with day-old news, and he looks forward to those papers as much as the food that they wrap.
    When Franciszka first tells my parents that she is inviting the German commander over for dinner, my mother is nervous and says, “Oh, is that safe?”
    My father finds it ironic that we are hiding right beneath where they will be eating.
    The day of the dinner, the smells are wonderful and make us even hungrier. My mother said to me the night before that I would need to be patient because Franciszka would make enough for us too.
    In our space under the table, we can hear the sounds of the party above.
    My father nods when he hears the commander speak because