Open Eyes

I heard the tears before I saw them.  At first, I thought it was simply a rainstorm that had yet to reach the surface.  The further I wandered into the public burial ground, I began seeing the tears falling from every living thing that had been overcome by this grey cloak.  I saw mothers and fathers leading their children, each grasping onto the small amount of belongings they were allowed.  I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable walking along with my father and his unit in my warm and dry wool coat, while people were sitting in the filthy streets, drenched in their own tears.

I felt my pace begin to slow, as I saw men pass me at a faster rate.  Soon, I was behind the entire group, and I knew that my father would be too involved with his duties to look for me.  He trusted me, and knew I’d be able to take care of myself.  I began to walk closer to the houses, paying more attention to the condition of the buildings, and the way they had been emptied in a rush.  I could see homes still full with furniture and belongings, which showed that these people had not been warned as early as I had been taught.  Perhaps the SS had made a mistake.

I continued to walk through the town, just watching the people and how they were reacting to what had happened to them.  One family caught my eye during my journey.  There was a woman, a boy close to my age, and a small, ragged dog.  The boy had dark brown hair, almost black even, and it was curlier than I had ever seen on a boy back home.  His eyes did not match his mother’s.  Her eyes were dazed, and I could tell that she had been overcome by the epidemic that took over the town.  She had no life left to her, and for that I was sorry.  The boy, though, had a fire in his eyes, as if he was still waiting for something good to happen.  I could really respect him for that, knowing that I would not have been able to stay as optimistic as he had. 

I walked up to him, but not before checking my surroundings to see if anyone was watching.  His mother had just left him to go back into her makeshift home, and I could not control my curiosity. 

“Hello,” I said, not knowing if he would understand me.  I saw recognition in his eyes, and I knew that he was educated in our language. 

“Hello,” he repeated.

“How do you get your hair to look like that?” I asked, not being able to control myself once again.

“I do nothing.  How about you, yellow hair?” he said with an attitude.  I laughed.  The dog, which had been hiding behind the boy’s legs, slowly walked over to me and sniffed my hand and licked it.  I laughed again, and this time the boy joined in. 

“Does it have a name?”

“I call her Cherut,” he said bashfully.  “It means ‘freedom.’  I used to know a girl named Cherut…but she was taken away by your friends.”  I could see resentment in his eyes, and I felt ashamed for a moment.

“She has a nice coat.”  I could feel some tension between us now.  I looked around me for a minute, and my gaze fell on the one-story building in which he lived.  “Do you like your new house?”

“I’d rather be home,” he sighed.  “You belong to those men.  Do you know when I can go home?”  His eyes began to blaze again.  I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I truly didn’t know.  I was silent.

            He sighed once again, and his mother who had reappeared outside then interrupted us. 

            “I leave you for five minutes, my invisible boy, and this is who you find?”  I heard worry in her words, and I apologized.

            “I’m sorry, ma’am.  I was the one to come up to the house.”  I said.  “I should leave.”  I turned to walk away, but then stopped and looked back at the boy.  There was a small smile on his lips, and I smiled back, hoping to see him again before I left.