We Were The Children

It arrived in a box on a cold Tuesday morning. 

Amelia's sock-clad feet padded quickly down the stairs and she pulled her cardigan more tightly around her as she went to open the door. The frigid winter breeze tickled the base of her neck and she watched in dismay as the delivery driver made off in his van down the street. She had wanted to ask him about the mysterious sender of this parcel; not that she had expected any sort of clarity, of course. But it wouldn't have hurt. The whole thing was an enigma surrounded in a thick cloud of intrigue and she was dying for answers. As it was, Helga wouldn't tell her anything. 

She bent down and scooped up the package, which was lighter than she had thought it would be. The door closed firmly behind her, she made her way to the sitting room and turned on a tableside lamp so she could see better. In this lighting, the box looked nothing but ordinary: about two feet in length, the cardboard smeared with grime from its journey. She wasn't entirely sure what she had been hoping for, but it offered no clues. A quick glance at the clock told her it was already a quarter past four, and Helga wouldn't be awake for at least another half hour. Damn, she thought. As curious as she was, this parcel wasn't for her. She had waited almost a month to find out what was inside, and another 30 minutes wouldn't kill her. 

It had all started when they had received that phone call four weeks prior. Helga had just sat down to breakfast when the ancient corded phone had shrieked the alarm of an incoming call. "I'll get it," Amelia had said, just like she always did, but Helga had wrapped a gnarled hand around her arm and quietly said, 

"That's alright dear. I'll get it." 

She hadn't been sure her dear Grandmother would even make it to the phone in time, but the one-sided conversation she'd been privy to had been...peculiar. Helga had answered in her typical, soft spoken manner, and whoever was on the other end had spoken for ages. Amelia was already halfway through her own meal before she had spoken again, only muttering out, “How long will it take?" Silence once more. By that point, Amelia's ears had perked up and she sat intent, watching her Grandmother's features remain unchanged. But the old woman only nodded, her bright blue eyes fixed steadily on the wall in front of her. "Same address. Yes. I do so appreciate it. Bye now." 

And just like that, she had hung up the phone and sat back down at the breakfast table, daintily sipping her tea. 

"So..." Amelia leaned forward, eyebrows raised. "Who was that?" 

"Just an old friend," Helga had responded. Her eyes had then taken on a faraway look, the one that arose when she was recalling something from the past. It was no use pestering her about it; her memory wasn't what it once was and there was a good chance it had been a telemarketer or a wrong call on the other end of the phone. 

Or so she had thought, up until that man had shown up at the door. 

He'd introduced himself as Trevor Baker, a friend of Helga's paying a long overdue visit. Even now, Amelia could not recall the last time anyone had come to see her Grandmother at her house; she'd been living here for a year and outside of a church member or the like, Helga kept a small social circle. She'd never made mention of this Trevor fellow, and Amelia had initially been hesitant to let him inside. But Helga had come 'round the stairwell and ushered him in, a warm smile overtaking her wrinkled features. The two had gone into the Parlor and shut the door, leaving Amelia beyond bewildered for the next hour and a half. 

She'd been back in the kitchen loading the dishwasher when the sound of the front door slamming had caught her attention. By the time she'd made her way to the foyer the man was gone, but Helga was standing at the window, watching him depart. "Who was that?" she couldn't help but blurt out; this followed by the strange phone call had her positively hooked. But her Grandma was the quiet sort who kept to herself, and she had only smiled at her over her shoulder with a little twinkle in her eye. 

"You'll see," was what she had said. "In a few short weeks, a parcel will be arriving that will explain everything." 

And now it was here. Tempted as she was to open it, she had the feeling whatever was inside would do little to answer her questions without Helga's aid. 

"Mama? What was that?" Amelia turned her head at the sound of her daughter's voice, smiling a bit as the 9-year-old yawned, rubbing her still-sleepy eyes as she padded into the room. 

"It's a package honey." Amelia beckoned her in for a hug, and the small girl tucked herself into her mother's arms. 

"Is it for me?" Amelia laughed and tousled her hair. 

"It's for your Bubbe. But I'm sure she'll let us know what's inside." 

"Maybe candy." Maya nodded, her voice still nasal from her cold. Instinctively, Amelia pressed her lips to her daughter's forehead, grateful that her fever had finally seemed to abate. 

"Maybe so. How was your nap? Are you feeling any better?" Maya nodded again, her eyes still fixated on the box. 

"Yeah. It was good. And my head doesn't hurt anymore." 

"Good." Amelia rubbed her back and found her own gaze was fixed on the mysterious package. "How about some juice?" 

"Yes please!" Maya did a happy little dance and Amelia chuckled as she stood, heading back towards the kitchen. It was a joy to see her sparkle returning; after the unexpected death of her husband, and Maya's father, the young girl's demeanor had become withdrawn and skittish. It was only since Maya had reformed a connection with her great grandmother that things had begun to improve. Young lives were so easily marred, yet also mended if only proper care was taken. 

The snow outside was beginning to fall more steadily now, and Amelia took a moment to ponder its beauty as she poured Maya a cup of apple juice. Helga made mention at the start of every winter how much she hated the snow; how it only served to remind her of darkness and starvation and the end of the promise of light. But she could never truly see it that way. For herself, a fresh blanket of snow promised nothing but new beginnings, a blank slate. A well-earned rest after a season of light and life. 

She was surprised to discover Helga sitting with Maya by the time she made it back to the living room. "Bubbe!" she said warmly, handing off the juice to her daughter as she came to sit with her. "I didn't know you were up too." 

"I heard the doorbell," she said, motioning towards the wall. "It just took me this long to get in here." A soft chuckle escaped from her throat and Amelia laughed along with her. "It's finally come." 

"What is it, Bubbe?" Helga reached out for it, groaning softly, and Amelia quickly sprang to fetch it for her. Setting it carefully on her lap, she watched as her eyes filled with some unknown emotion, her knobbed, arthritic hands running softly up and down the box. 

"Would you open it?" she asked softly, looking down at it as if it was made of pure gold. Amelia cast a quick glance over at her daughter who had downed the apple juice and was staring expectedly at them both. 

"Of course. Here." She took it once more in her arms and settled on the floor, sliding her fingers beneath the tabs. Amelia felt compelled to treat it like a fragile bundle, especially once she discovered that the goodies were wrapped with packing peanuts and bubble wrap. The curiosity nearly killing her, she slowly pulled the object from the box and carefully unwrapped the protections. 

"A doll!" Maya softly exclaimed. And right she was; there in her hands was a delicate porcelain doll, wrapped in a paisley cotton dress. Amelia stared at it for a moment, transfixed by the rosy cheeks, the soft blonde curls, the slash of crimson that represented her delicate lips. She looked antique, but well taken care of, and the question was on the tip of her tongue when Helga finally spoke. 

"She was mine." Her mouth turned upward in a half-smile though her eyes, still fixed on the doll, were sad. "Many, many years ago." Wordlessly, Amelia lifted her towards her grandmother, a thousand questions sifting through her mind. 

"Why is she here?" Maya asked, her eyes blown wide in wonder. Amelia couldn't help but smile; from the mouths of babes! 

"She's here to bring joy," Bubbe answered carefully, as if she were weighing each word before speaking them. "Or so I hope, at least." She was drifting again, her bright blue eyes looking back on a past neither Amelia nor her daughter could see. This little doll had clearly triggered something and Amelia wasn't certain what the situation called for. Helga inhaled sharply all of a sudden, and locked eyes with her. Her heart spoke for her. 

"What are you thinking, Bubbe?" Her eyes watered, and Amelia found the sight somewhat foreign. She could not bring to mind the last time she'd ever seen her cry. 

"The last time I held her," she replied, eyes once more taking on that faraway look. "I had just stepped off of a cattle car." 

***

Ravensbrück Concentration Camp

Fürstenberg, Germany

February 1943

"Ama? Have we arrived?" Helga could see nothing, but could feel the overwhelming press of the bodies packed in around her. She could hear nothing, save the muffled shouts from outside the car and the sporadic gasps, moans, and sobs of her fellow passengers. Ama had told her over and over again that if she was a good girl and didn't vomit, didn't speak, didn't cry until they arrived, then she would get a special treat. And she had waited a good ten minutes after the car had stopped moving to ask anything, lest she get in trouble when it actually counted. 

"I believe we have, my darling." Ama's voice in the darkness comforted her somewhat, but the stench of human waste filling her nostrils sent a roll of nausea through her empty stomach. She could not remember the last time she had eaten or had a drop of water on her lips, but still it felt like she would be sick at any moment. 

"Are we going to get off?" Her question hung in the air and remained unanswered for a few beats too long, and she cradled Eloise in her arms, pulling her tight against her chest. When the angry men had come, there had been no time to gather any needed belongings. As it was, Eloise was the only worldly possession she had in her care, save the clothes upon her back. 

"Give me Eloise, Helga." The words were blunt, a far cry from her mother's soft tone but a few seconds before. She responded by squeezing her doll ever tighter against her, a lifeline in the midst of all this darkness. "Helga. Give her to me now." 

"Why?" She spoke in a whisper, afraid of what the others might think of her naughtiness. Ama's hands found her shoulders, and pulled her in close, and she found a moment of respite there in her arms. 

"Remember what I've told you?" Ama whispered back. "How old are you, Helga?" 

"Fourteen," she responded, but still it seemed odd to lie. She had turned twelve just two months ago. 

"You're big for your age, aren't you? Big and strong. Strong enough to do all that is asked of you. Isn't that right, my girl?" 

"Yes Ama." 

"And when you are asked if you want to work, what will you say?" 

"I will say yes, Ama. I want to work." 

"Good girl. Good, good girl. But workers don't have time to play, my darling. They do not have time for dollies." Ama's voice was picking up in speed, a frantic whisper as the sound of shouting and sliding doors resounded outside their car. "So you must give me Eloise, alright? And you mustn’t cry." 

"But..." Ama's hands tugged at Eloise and Helga couldn't stop the swell of tears. "But what if -"

"Out! Out! Now!" The demand fell harsh and brutal upon her ears as the doors slid open. A rush of cold air swept through at the exact moment Ama snatched Eloise from her hands and shoved the doll into the arms of a much younger girl. 

"Remember what I've told you," Ama said as the passengers began moving in tandem outside. "Do not be afraid. Be a good girl." 

Any response died on her lips the moment one of the angry men grabbed her by the arm and shoved her outside into the snow, screaming orders until her ears rang with it. 

"Ama?" she questioned, the shock of his violence pulling the strength from her throat. A tall, wicked fence stood before her and she gulped down a sob, shielding her eyes from the bright lights cutting through the frigid night air. Wretched faces surrounded her, none of them familiar, and she fought to keep the terror from crawling up her throat. She needed to be a good girl. For Ama.

Someone suddenly took her by the arm again, thrusting her into a forming line. "All children to the left! All women to the right! Now!" By instinct, she moved towards the left, only to be grabbed once more and pulled to the line of haggard, terrified women. 

"You're a big girl, Helga." The soft voice of her mother, and for that single moment, the terror dimmed. "Stay with me. That's it."

The line of children made their way through the snow, tears pouring as their mothers screamed for them to no avail; they were forced to walk in the opposite direction. Helga caught one last fleeting glimpse of the little girl who had taken her doll, heart sinking as each step took her further and further away. Ama was speaking but she was no longer listening as they marched through the gates. She wanted Eloise. She wanted to be with the children. 

Two lines. Two fates. She hadn't known it then.  

"Take heart, my child." Ama was looking over her shoulder at her, offering a warm smile. "This will all be over soon." Warmth blossomed in her chest and she smiled back, not knowing those would be the last words she would ever hear her speak. 

Less than an hour later, they put a bullet in her mother's head. 

***

Silence reigned, as hushed as the snowfall outside. Tears pooled in Amelia's eyes as she sat breathless on the floor, her heart crumpled in on itself. She never talked about her time in the camp. Not even once. 

"There is a foundation that in some way or another, finds the belongings they stole from the people as they arrived at the camps and returns them to the families when possible." Bubbe sighed, twirling one finger around Eloise's curl. "Most are in museums now. Many have been lost to time. But some..." She stroked the doll's cheek. "Some find their way home." Amelia swallowed the lump in her throat, turning to watch her own daughter playing by the fireplace, having lost interest halfway through the story. To be faced with such a decision...to have no way to protect yourself, or your child...

"Little one," Bubbe called out. "Come here child." Maya tossed a smile over her shoulder before scrambling to her feet, coming to stand in front of her great grandmother. Her eyes were on the doll. "I want to give her to you, little one. Would you like that?" Maya's eyes filled with a warm glow and she nodded excitedly. 

"Yeah! I love her!" 

"Her name is Eloise," Helga said quietly. "And she needs to be taken special care of. She needs the love of a little girl. Can you do that for me?" Maya seemed to grasp the seriousness of the moment and laced her fingers together, nodding once more. 

"I can, Bubbe. I promise." Amelia watched with some level of amazement as the doll passed hands, from one generation to the next. Considering all that had led to this moment, it was nothing short of a miracle. Both women watched as Maya skipped off to the fireplace, cradling the doll in her arms, singing softly to herself. Amelia sob-laughed, turning to look at the woman she admired, she adored, but was beginning to understand didn't know as well as she ought to. 

"Did you always plan on giving it to her?" Helga nodded. 

"Yes. I wanted her to have it." 

"Why?" 

Helga pondered the snow now falling on a quiet earth, the warmth of the fire in the hearth, the gentle sounds of a child playing who knew she was safe. "Sometimes," she said, leaning back in her chair without taking her eyes off the girl. "We need to see the essence of hope for ourselves. To remind us that it still exists." She leaned back, a smile in her eyes. "To know that darkness, however rampant, can never truly overcome the light."