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Pine cones are part of my past - my childhood past. I always thought that when we grew old, our memories will be less painful and less prominent... NO WAY! As the young like to say today! It gets even worse with old age. Every mention in the media, sets me off; every mention of the Holocaust brings back vivid memories.
You may remember I wrote in one Column (No: 92) about my "Return-to-Budapest": this is where the story of "The Cones" came to being. We were "floating" down the Rivers-of-Europe, a lovely cruise, which one of us needed to make. We agreed that I could stay on board if we "floated" past a country I did not want to visit and it worked quite well. We were with good friends and the L&M went off with them, while I stayed on board. I think I was the only one!... The bartender and I became good friends and he kept me supplied with gins while I wrote.
One night we came down for dinner and the tables, especially the buffet big one, were all decorated with pine cones. I just stood there - transfixed... My friend asked me what was wrong? She said that I looked stunned and white. I told her that I was fine, but after dinner I told her why the cones effected me that way...
This took place during WW2 in 1943; we were escaping from Poland to Hungary, walking at night and resting during the day. It was very well organized by the forest rangers and they were our guides. But one border we could not cross walking; we had to take a train and we could not go together. At the time, a family going together on a train would be pounced on whichever country they were passing through. So we had to split up; my father took my oldest sister on one train and my mother took the youngest, on a different train. I was the middle one, nine years old at the time; I was told to go with my "grandmother", an old lady who was bribed to take me with her over the border. I did not speak her language and she did not speak mine, so it was decided that I would act as if I was deaf and mute. If all went well, we would all meet at a certain house on the other side of the border we were crossing and continue together from there.
I was very frightened to go alone with that strange woman and not being able to communicate with her was too terrible. I was very good in pretending to love my grandmother when the police arrived and tried to answer them with my hands when they asked me a question. The woman's answers apparently were good, because they saluted and left us alone. We arrived at a station and she motioned for me to follow her. We walked a short distance to a house; she had the key and let us in. It was deserted. We were the first ones to arrive. With gestures she managed to convey to me that she must leave and I must stay... Stay?... Alone? In this empty house?... But by the time I wanted to detain her she was gone. And so, there I was; alone in an empty house, praying that my parents would make it over the border and come for me.
As I stood in that empty room, in that empty house, bewildered and completely terrified, I heard a thud. And then another. For the first time I looked around; I was in an empty room with a large window and a chair - that was all - one chair. I heard another thud and realized that it came from the outside. I went to the window and saw a huge pine tree full of cones; the "thuds" were cones falling off the tree. I took the chair, placed it at the window, sat down and looked at that glorious tree and started to pray. If the tree could hold on to her cones, I decided, my parents would turn up and I would be safe. But IF she lost all her cones and I was still there, I did not want to think about that. I do not know how long I sat there praying for the tree to hold on to her cones... Every time there was a thud my heart skipped a beat. But I kept praying and waiting. There were quite a few cones still left on the tree when suddenly the door burst open and my parents rushed into the room! And yes; we all made it.
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Debbie Morgenstern is the author of "My Life in Israel" and other short stories.