I was 15 years old when my family and I were taken to the ghetto. From there we were transported to Auschwitz. On the third and last night on the train, I fell asleep in my fatherÕs arms. I awoke from his tears falling on my face.
ÒDaddy! Why are you crying?Ó I asked, startled.
ÒNone of us are coming back,Ó he replied, ÒExcept you.Ó
He looked down at me through his tears.
ÒYou will be the only one to go back home. But you must be a good girl, Sara. Do not lie. Do not steal. Be obedient and trust the Lord. He will protect you.Ó
That was the advice my father bestowed upon me on the last night of his life. I followed it. And here I am.
How did he know?
Was it wishful thinking?
Was it God?
IÕm not sure.