Escape

Even through the limited view from the train, the expanse of the countryside could be felt extending for days beyond the horizon. History was being rewritten in the penmanship of paved roads. The amber ripples of the fields stretched on either side of the cold unfeeling railroad tracks. Nostalgia is mummified in the icy slush and mud that make up the dirt roads that gracefully swivel the landscape that glows a hauntingly cold blue bathed in the moonlight. A haze crept lethargically across the violet sky foreshadowing the thin veil of clouds encroaching upon the inconstant moon. The symphony of crickets chirping was rudely interrupted by the din and cacophony of steel grinding against steel. The metallic humming of the train zipped by, echoing itself with the rhythmic clicking of the tracks.

Joshua took a deep breath feeling the cold air stab into his lungs. His soft palm pressed firmly against the calloused palm of his father’s. The boy’s other hand tapped restlessly. Almost with a mind of its own it tapped his leg and where he sat, wandering away accidentally tapping the leg of the stranger sitting next to him. It was too late to be understanding, even of the fidgety antics of a boy on a train, and the stranger gave Joshua a stern look. Frightened, Joshua gasp and swallowed his breath as he jumped to his father’s side, gripping tightly to his pant leg.

As any good father would, Isaac sensed the growing apprehension in the young boy. He wrapped his arm around Joshua and smiled down on him letting the warm glow in his eyes let the child know that it would all be over soon. But Joshua refused to be lulled into a sense of security and was in need of something more substantial to rest his uneasiness.

“Close your eyes,” Isaac whispered to the boy. Joshua’s eyes furrowed. His only response was a blank stare back at his father. Isaac smiled and nodded. “It’s okay, son. It’s magic.”

The child obeyed and slowly let his lids shut tight. His father’s rough hand gripped his firmly but not tightly. Still uneasy, Isaac carried Joshua and placed him on his lap. Wrapping his arms around his boy, Isaac whispered into his ear.

“Pick a memory,” he said, “Make it the best day you can remember. And hold onto it… tightly. Remember every little detail down to which direction the wind was blowing.”

“East,” Joshua whispered. The wind was indeed blowing east on Joshua’s happiest day. He remembered it was a summer morning. The sun was showering its golden warmth on the countryside just outside where they used to live baking the dirt road into healthy, smooth clay.

Joshua knew the wind was blowing west because it was cascading over the back of his head through his hair in a gentle breeze with the smell of various wildflowers being wafted into his young nostrils. He was turned towards the east that particular morning looking up towards the sun. And while he was sitting on his father’s lap on the train, he could swear that he felt the warmth of the sun beating down on his face just as it did that summer day.

The sun was not the reason Joshua’s eyes turned skyward that day. Eyes still shut he remembered that he was flying his very first kite that day. The sound of the paper rustling whispered in his ear as if her were still there; a moment stuck in time. Whipping around gently were the tails of the kite to keep it from flying recklessly about the clear blue sky. He squeezed his fingers tightly as if he could feel the tightness of the twine wrap itself over his soft pink palm there inside the train. It tugged him skyward as he returned the favor with a gentle pull of his own. He could feel the back and forth motion of the kite as it danced gracefully in the lighthearted tug-o-war.

The sunshine continued to beat down in Joshua’s imagination turning his cheeks a bright rose color as the pulled gently towards his ears to form a large smile. Isaac looked at his son lost in his own daydream. The smile in Joshua’s memory began to bleed into reality and it made his father smile.

But with a quick jolt of the car, the young boy was taken out of the warm summer day and back into the cold wintery night. His eyelids were violently peeled back in fear of falling off of his father’s lap. Joshua looked at all the faces on the train. Once tired and despondent, all faces turned towards the door in fearful unison. The moonlight shone into the car with unfeeling, unprejudiced harshness as if it were frozen sunlight. Everyone got to their feet and Isaac held his son’s shoulders tightly, leaning over to whisper his finest advice into Joshua’s ear.

“Just remember,” the words fell out in comforting rhythm like that of a heartbeat, “If you should ever find yourself frightened or alone, you can always close your eyes and escape to that fine memory that you were just living. You can always escape.” Isaac’s words resonated into the depths of Joshua’s soul. “You can ALWAYS escape.”

With a roar, the door slid open and the soldiers gathered sporadically outside of the opening clinging casually to their rifles. A whistle called to the passengers as if they were cattle or dogs. And as they emptied out onto the freezing mud of the field marred with the punctuation marks of battle, Joshua and Isaac hold each other tightly. Then a smug soldier yelled the first phrase to welcome them to their new home, “Herzlich willkommen in Auschwitz!”