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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