This time I catch it, and hold it up for her to see. Her eyes twinkle. Does she pity me? Perhaps. I do not care, though. I am just so happy to gaze at her. And for the first time in so long, I feel my heart move with emotion.
For seven months, we meet like this. Sometimes we exchange a few words. Sometimes, just an apple. But this angel from heaven is feeding more than my belly. She is feeding my soul. And somehow, I know I am feeding hers as well.
(Read Related : Touching Story)
One day, I hear frightening news - we are being shipped to another camp.
This could mean the end for me. And it definitely means the end for me and my friend.
The next day, I can feel my heart breaking when I
greet her. I can barely speak as I say what must be
Months pass and the nightmare continue. But the memory of this girl sustains me through the terror, the pain, the hopelessness. Over and over in my mind, I see her face, her kind eyes, I hear her gentle words and I taste those apples.
And then one day, just like that, the nightmare is over. The war has ended. Those of us who are still alive are freed. I have lost everything that was precious to me, including my family. But I still have the memory of this girl, a memory I carry in my heart and it gives me the will to go on as I move to America to start a new life.
Years pass. It is 1957. I am living in New York City. A friend convinces me to go on a blind date with a lady friend of his. I agree reluctantly. But this woman named Roma is nice. Like me, she is an immigrant and so we have at least that in common.
(Read Related : Blind Date )
"Where were you during the war?" Roma asks
me gently, in that delicate way immigrants ask one
another questions about those years.
Roma gets a far away look in her eyes, as if she is remembering something painful yet sweet.
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