War Torn Love (2 page)

             
Momma grew her flowers in raised beds scattered all through the yard. Oh, she took great pride in them - she
tenderly cared for each flowering plant, as if they were her child. I thought it odd back then, how she would talk to them, just like they were people. I thought she was off her rocker. Now I actually understand it was not about the talking to the flowers, as much as it was her stress reliever. The tender treatment she gave her flowers showed in their splendid colors, shapes, and smells. Every day in the summer, she would go out early in the morning, and then cut a whole vase full of flowers so that the inside of the house smelled just like the outdoors. I missed that smell whenever winter rolled through - I think that’s why I love spring so much.

             
The tall trees that grew around our property were filled with several different varieties of very happy, well fed songbirds chirping and cheeping their wonderful songs, I like to think that they were calling out to their own
soul mate
- their love songs. I loved listening to them. Momma said it was their way as thanking us, and God. So to this day, when I hear the birds around me, I think of my beloved, dear sweet Momma, and remember her heart of gold.

             
The day I was to have my very first encounter with my own lost
soul mate
, came about unexpectedly when a lovely new Jewish family moved in
to the farmhouse next door.
 

             
It was in the morning when I heard their wagon loaded with all kinds of belongings - clanging metal items together as it was rolling down the road that ran directly in front of our house. I could tell that each time the wagon
wheel made contact with a rut in the road in front of the house, as the cacophony grew closer. The anticipation inside grew, wondering if perchance, this is the family I have been waiting for, asking for in my prayers every night. Every day I looked and listened for the right wagon or truck showing up - I prayed for a kid my age, though I had been hoping for a girl.

             
The clattering did not catch my undivided attention at first - that is until I recognized that they had pulled up to the house right next door to us. I could hear the wagon turn, and a man telling his two horses to pull harder, I knew that they must have turned onto the drive, which was slightly steep. I was familiar with the sounds a wagon made on our street, because we had traffic on the road all day long. And every day I gazed out the window for anyone to pull up to the empty house, it was usually nothing, but not this time. I was so excited, I was jumping up and down, getting up from my still very unmade bed. I had been lazing all morning long. Expecting it to be just another long hot, drawn out, boring day, I was so bored I remember I was actually excited about school starting back up; I let me tell you I hate school. The sad thing was, I just started my summer break.

             
The house next door had been unoccupied for more than three months now, when the family that had lived there had moved to Warsaw – it’s strange I can no longer remember their names. I had been sad ever sense they had moved away. I did not had anybody to play with since they left. Other than my older sister Marym, and trust me she is not any sort of fun at all. She did not have a fun bone in her
entire body; we constantly bickered with one another. Truthfully I generally lost the fights because I am much smaller than her, unless
Momma stepped
in, but Marym is a “goody too shoes,” - she always threw a fit when Momma got involved in our arguments, and then she ultimately ended up getting her way anyways.  Because she’s six years older than me. Marym did not like playing with me; she said that I was such a little baby at times. She was always bragging that she is now a young woman and I was certainly am not.

             
“Hana, you simply wouldn’t comprehend such complicated matters, I don’t have the time for such frivolous or mundane matters as kid’s games.”

             
I think it’s because she was starting to develop that she thought she so special – she was always flaunting her blossoming curves at me.

             
Take note, I was eight when Abram moved in next door to me, and it was then that he everlastingly entered my heart, and my spirit -  we became one. I would find out from that moment on, I was incomplete without of him. The way he would look at me his smile made my heart patter, and his manly scent.  I can remember that day just as if
it just
happened; yet it has been seventy-five years. It is hard to believe that little girl even existed if I stare into the mirror, I feel like a young girl, though an old woman stares back at me. Losing Abram made me old.

             
I have played it out so many times since then. Even after all these years later, I still cry for joy just thinking about it, they were such precious memories. Hardships over
the years have made me appreciate the true importance of happiness - the influence it can have on one’s soul. I consider possessing such wonderful memories as the greatest endowment – no better treasure one can possibly
possess,
as they grow old. It is the greatest blessing God allows us to have, and experience. Funny to think the just after being giving life the greatest of all gifts, the next is love - something you can’t see, or physically even feel, yet it’s what every human that walks this earth yearns to have at one time or another.

             
When that glorious wagon pulled up to the house next
door,
I was on cloud nine. I was drawn in like a bug to a bug zapper.  Given
that,
I was bored out of my mind, and I was supposed to be hanging about in my room, to keep out of Momma’s hair. Problem was I could not be caged in like a bird - I had too much energy. Didn’t Momma realize that I was a kid that should be out playing on such a nice day, breathing in the fresh air? Therefore, my curiosity got the best over me, it more often than not does. I did the only I could,  which seemed sensible to an almost eight year old mind I snuck outside, through my open bedroom window, and  as my sister wasn’t paying attention to me, I got away with it too. Mountaineering my way down from the second story, down the tall wooden trellis directly below my bedroom window - thankfully positioned on the opposite side of the house, away from mother who was down in the kitchen. Then once my feet were firmly planted on the ground, I creatively maneuvered around the corner of my house; crouched down, passed the open windows. This was risky – I was possibly in Momma’s direct line of sight. She had eyes of an eagle; I use to think that she had eyes in the
back of her head – and though every child might think that, in Momma’s case it was probably true. She could tell what mischief I was planning before I got there.

             
I was most inquisitive, I was a very curious by nature girl, and all of this sneaking was an attempt to get a more clandestine look at the family – but I was much
more inquisitive
than I probably should be, it generally ended up getting me in trouble. Momma had broken a few wooden spoons on my bare butt when I was caught, but for some reason that inquisitive streak still persisted.

             
My heart was racing - would I spy a child - or two, or three in with these new strangers? Would I find a new playmate? I sprinted across our yard, and then climbed up the old oak tree in front of my house. Like a monkey, up the wooden runs nailed directly into the tree’s trunk - oh, I can tell you, I climbed that oak tree a thousand times as a young child; I still have the scares on my knees to prove it.
Up to the tree- house Poppa built for my sister and me; of course, sister never had stopped
using it, so I had it all to my
self. I redecorated, putting my own touches to it. But today, I paid the tree house no heed – I just had to get an better look.

             
Shimmying my way all the way up even higher, out onto one of the massive branches, I craned for a better view. I did not normally venture this far up – it was well beyond the safety of the tree house. I guess in all my excitement, I was not thinking. This was always challenging to do in a dress; the girls these days are so fortunate that they can wear shorts and jeans, options we
never had. What I would have given to have that option when I was a little girl.

             
Momma would surely tan my butt if she had caught sight of where I was currently sitting, and not in my bedroom where I was supposed to be.  She insisted on me always wearing a bloody dress, while I wished I were a boy at times.  I skinned my knees up a bit in the climb, as usual - I didn’t mind, it was all worth it, to gain even a better vantage point from which to look. I had hoped though, that I wouldn’t be spotted, because if Momma had caught me, she would surely skin my butt bright red. She hates when I climb the trees.

             
She always said in her stern voice, “girls aren’t supposed to climb trees,” 

             
But I wouldn’t have any of that - I had a stubborn independent streak about me, just like my Poppa. I was more of a tomboy than a girl, playing with dolls or girly things simply did not interest me in even the slightest. Most girls in my grade were not tomboys like me. I think sometimes I wanted to be the son Poppa never had - I always knew it broke his heart, though he wouldn’t come right out and say it. Don’t get me wrong I knew he loved me so. I had a little brother, who died of polio two years earlier. There is not a day that I do not think about him he was so precious to us all.

             
I concentrated on my observation of this arriving family. They were oblivious to my presence.  It looked like a Jewish family - I was so excited, when I had noticed this, and they looked just like us. I did not care if they were
Jewish. All I was interested in was if there was going to be a kid my age for me to play with once more, I was not going to be persnickety.

Looking down from my high perch, I spotted a man who looked to be around Poppa’s age, dressed just like Poppa dresses. The man wearing his yarmulke, long beard, then a lovely enough looking women nestled beside him, wearing a white tichel and a brown dress.

  And oh yes! To my delight, I almost screamed out giving away my secret location, when I had spotted him. A young boy, and from the looks of it, he appeared to be my age, but could not be sure. He certainly did not look to be too excited about moving here. He was staring down at his feet, scuffing them in the dusty dirt covering at the side of the path - well I was suddenly determined to change his mind. I knew once he knew I lived here, surely then he would cheer up. It was in my nature to meddle in others people’s business, whether they asked for it or not.

             
Completely forgetting that I was trying to remain hidden, and that this would draw attention to where I was, I shouted, “Hello down there!” And then, I clapped my hands over my mouth, wobbling against the tree trunk, my
stomach
pressed tight against the branch, my legs wrapped around it. I lost all thought of distracting him, and was more interested at that time in staying on my perch.

             
Suddenly the little boy looked up from staring down at his feet, with a shy, curious smile. I think that the fact that he was hearing another child’s voice might have had something to do with it.  He was looking all around for me.
He had no clue where I was. I was now playing a game with him, forcing him to look hard. It gave me a chance to study him.

             
“Hello little boy,” Hey I am, I am up here silly! Up in the tree, over here. My name is Hana, and I live here.”

             
He then spotted me, hiding out clutching onto the thick branch situated well above him, maybe some fifty feet - holding on for dear life to be honest. This new boy turned to his Momma, whispering in her ear. Later when I asked he told me he said: