Rosenheim puts a hand on my shoulder. My eyes are wet with crystals.
Blessed be Him, Lord our God
. The synagogue is filled with a thousand
glowing candles. We are dressed in our finest clothes, but I have
grown and the shoes pinch my toes. The
is large and friendly
and his voice croaks like the small green frogs you can sometimes
find in the pond in the park. He praises the Lord and he praises the
people and he praises the Fatherland. His robes are black and he
opens his arms wide, as if he were embracing us all with his words.
Two of his teeth are missing and when he smiles he is like a child
discovering something for the first time.
says he is the best
the synagogue has ever had.
I tuck the badge and the hair pin back into the letter, but keep the
yellow star scrunched in my palm.
Seig Heil 2