Journey to America by Sonia Levitin

Author:Sonia Levitin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 1987-08-27T04:00:00+00:00

Ways Through the Woods

WHEN WE REACHED a small clearing everyone stopped before a circle of large, flat stones.

“What’s happening?” I asked Emma, still panting.

“A cookout,” Emma replied, smiling. “Come on, let’s help gather some twigs.”

“What is there to cook?”

“Potatoes.”

“We stole them,” Werner said, coming up with a large log. “What do you think of that?” he demanded, with a nod at Ruth.

Ruth’s cheeks reddened, then she quickly looked away.

Soon a fire blazed in the circle of rocks, and we all sat around it until the potatoes were done. They were scorched and burning hot on the outside, half raw on the inside, but we feasted on them hungrily and called them delicious.

I looked around at the faces that had become familiar in just a few days. There were the twins, Nick and Anton, who spoke only Italian but made themselves understood nevertheless. There were Lotte and her brother David, both pale and silent; they had fled from Vienna. We knew nothing more. There was Carla from Holland, always gay, her blond braids swinging. Her parents had sent her to Zurich alone, intending to follow later.

Ruth and I were the lucky ones, with our mother close by. I wondered what my mother and the parents of the others would think if they saw us sitting there eating stolen potatoes. And yet, they must have been intended for us. How could people steal from themselves?

For the first time in many days I felt peaceful and happy. I began to wander away from the group, thinking of Papa and how he would love the forest. I wanted to memorize it all, to tell him later and let him share it. Just beyond the campfire circle was a field of tiny yellow and pink wildflowers. The wild grass reached up to my knees, and I bent down to let the fragrance surround me. Nearby, in a large fallen log, a colony of insects was working, building, and I stopped to watch. Still further a clump of willows stood bent together, and between their leaves I could see a stream flowing down the hillside, wearing the large stones into smooth, glistening mounds.

“You like it?”

I was startled, then I smiled at Werner, who stood beneath a tree, closely examining the bark.

“It’s beautiful,” I sighed. “I didn’t know there were so many beautiful places in the world. When we were leaving Germany, I looked out of the train window and I thought it was the end.”

“I know,” he nodded. “I felt the same. But that’s wrong. There is always something more. Look at this.” He motioned for me to come near. “See that perfect circle of holes? A woodpecker sits here every morning and makes these designs. This tree,” he said gravely, “is sixtyeight years old.”

“How do you know?”

“By counting the rings here where the branch was cut. It was cut with an axe,” he said. “You can tell by the marks. See this dark mark and the hollow place?” I nodded.

“The tree was struck by lightning some years ago, about ten, I think.

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