The next morning, we woke up and got ready for synagogue services. It was Shabbat. We went to the synagogue and prayed, and not a single time did we doubt our beliefs. We never would, and nobody had the right to tell us we were doing something wrong, because we weren't.
When we went home, I fed Phillipe. Then I studied, as Maman promised. I reviewed the volume and surface area of various 3D shapes, and then practiced my penmanship.
When we went to pray in the late afternoon, Papa stayed longer to help David, a boy who was just a year elder to me, prepare for his Bar Mitzvah. Papa was helping him be able to fluently learn the Torah.
But he never did come home, because the Nazis had lit the synagogue on fire. It was engulfed with bright orange dancing flames that lit up the dark sky.
As I lay in bed sobbing, If only's filled my mind. If only I had spent a little more time with Papa. If only I hadn't argued with Papa all those times. If only I hadn't taken him for granted. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, my face wet.
YOU ARE READING
We Were Given A Miracle
Historical FictionGisele lives in France with her family in the 1940s. When the Nazis conquer the country, her world is turned upside down. Gisele and her family are Jewish, which complicates the situation even more. With the looming threat of being sent to a concent...
