“But you must have done something to deserve free bread,” I pressed. “I don’t deserve anything. You stand for what is right, Lina, without the expectation of gratitude or reward. Now, off to your homework.”
Have you ever wondered what a human life is worth? That morning, my brother’s was worth a pocket watch.
Six hundred years ago, the Grand Duke Gediminas had a dream. He saw an iron wolf standing high upon a hill. He consulted a priest about the dream who told him that the iron wolf symbolized a large and formidable city, a city of opportunity.
Metal clanged and screeched. They were dividing the train. There was another sound. “Listen,” I said. “The men.” It grew louder. Louder. They were singing, singing at the top of their lungs. Andrius joined, and then my brother and the gray-haired man. And finally, the bald man joined in, singing our national anthem. Lithuania, land of heroes ...
As a seventeen-year-old, she had wisdom and experience, as well as an anatomy book that fascinated me.
Last summer she had met a boy while we were on vacation in Nida. I’d wait up every night to hear the details of their dates. As a seventeen-year-old, she had wisdom and experience, as well as an anatomy book that fascinated me.
“A guilty conscience is not worth extra food,”
Your father was very clumsy.” A tear rolled down my cheek. She chuckled in the darkness. “He says I bewitched him the very instant he saw me. But do you know what really happened? He tried to talk to me and fell out of a tree. He fell out of an oak tree and broke his arm.”
“Good men are often more practical than pretty,” said Mother. “Andrius just happens to be both.”
Finally, some gave in. “Traitors!” spit Miss Grybas under her breath, clucking her tongue. People argued about those who signed. The first night someone signed, I was furious. Mother told me to feel sorry for the person, that they had been pushed over the edge of their identity. I couldn’t feel sorry for them. I couldn’t understand.
“Munch is primarily a lyric poet in color. He feels colors, but does not see them. Instead, he sees sorrow, crying, and withering.” Sorrow, crying, and withering. I saw that in Ashes, too. I thought it was brilliant.
Mother’s knees buckled. He caught her by the waist. Her face contorted and fell against his chest. She pounded his shoulder with her fist. “MOTHER!” I screamed, running toward her. I tripped over the firewood tumbling from under my coat. I grabbed her from Kretzsky, pulling her to me. “Mother.” We fell to our knees. “Kostas,” she sobbed. I stroked her hair, hugging her to me. Kretzsky’s boots shifted. I looked up at him. “Shot. In Krasnoyarsk prison,” he said. The air crushed in around me, pushing my body deep into the snow. “No, you’re wrong,” I said, my eyes searching Kretzsky’s. “He’s coming to get us. He’s on his way. He’s wrong, Mother! They think he’s dead because he has left. He got my drawings. He’s coming for us!” “No.” Kretzsky shook his head. I stared at him. No? Mother wept, her body chugging into mine. “Papa?” The word barely escaped my lips. Kretzky took a step closer, reaching to help Mother. Loathing purged from my mouth. “Get away from her! Stay away. I hate you. Do you hear me? I HATE YOU!” Kretzsky stared at Mother. “Me, too,” he said. He walked away, leaving me on the ground with Mother. We sank deeper, snow blanketing us, the wind sharp against our faces like needles. “Come, Mother. A storm is coming.” Her legs couldn’t carry her. Her chest heaved with every step, throwing us off balance. Snow whirled around us, limiting my sight. “HELP ME!” I screamed. “Somebody, PLEASE!” I heard nothing but the wail of the winds. “Mother, match my steps. Walk with me. We must get back. There’s a storm.” Mother didn’t walk. She just repeated my father’s name into the falling snow.
Will you help us?” explained Janina. People I didn’t know formed a circle around me, sheltering me from view. They escorted me safely back to our jurta, undetected. They didn’t ask for anything. They were happy to help someone, to succeed at something, even if they weren’t to benefit.
We’d been trying to touch the sky from the bottom of the ocean. I realized that if we boosted one another, maybe we’d get a little closer.
pulled Mother’s suitcase from under the board she lay on. I was wrong. Inside were fresh, clean clothes. A light dress, silk stockings, shoes without scuffs, her tube of lipstick. There was also a man’s shirt and tie. Papa’s clothes. I began to cry. Mrs. Rimas brought her hand to her mouth. “She really intended to return home.” I looked at Papa’s shirt. I lifted it to my face. My mother was freezing. She could have worn these clothes. She kept them, to return to Lithuania in a clean set of clothes.
Each day, when chopping and delivering wood, we dumped extra behind the pile. It was understood that if someone was brave enough to steal it, it was there.