Rough draft... After the War

angelicsaz

Imagine your worst hangover, your head is pounding, you stomach is turning; your mouth is so dry you can barely move your tongue. You are so thirsty, but you can’t just go to the nearest tap and fill yourself glass of water. Imagine, you haven’t not eaten in 8days, your stomach feels like it is eating itself. This is how she described how she felt, when she closed her eyes, lying on the snow covered ground, listening to her bones rattling. She had resigned herself to death. She didn’t hear the deafen marching of 4oo soldiers. When she opened her eyes, she thought she was dead, gliding to heaven. She watched as the clear blue sky moved over her. She watched as she saw trees and mountains that she couldn’t remember seeing before her, rush past her. She thought to herself that it seemed like a terribly rush. Suddenly a large round women was close to her face ‘Your safe now child’ it was only 20 years later did she understand those first words uttered to her in English. She began to hear voices, shouting, laughing, ‘Wij zijn Vrij’ (we are free) ‘Hij is dood’ (he is dead). She could only think the unthinkable. The thing she had been hoping and praying for. The thing her family had been waiting for. The war is over. She closed her eyes in sheer delight and just lay there, resigning herself to whatever was going to happen. At that moment in time, she could not care less whether she lived or died. She had simply survived. Like she promised her parents she would.

4 days passed, she was in out and out of consciousness. She had dreams and nightmares, awaking to find herself, surrounded by people, who all spoke too fast. She found it too claustrophobic, sleeping under a roof. The smell of food turned her stomach. Every few hours a nurse would come around, and change her drip. When she could finally sit up, she was amazed, shocked. She was in a huge barn like building, filled with rows and rows of people, all in beds, some barely alive, others looking like they had just come back from holidays. She noticed a sign stuck on her bed. English again. She asked the man in the next bed what it meant. He simply said ‘Unknown number 1214’ 12 14. 12 14. Years later. She would use these numbers religiously in the lotto. When she was release she was given clothes, food tokens, and a train ticket to Amsterdam. She arrived, finding a city, chaotic. She found a job as a clerk
With the Red Cross, she worked at reuniting families and their children. She found the work rewarding and it gave her something to live for. As she was alone. She had a small apartment which she shared with another lady who also worked with the Red Cross. She was a shy quiet girl, who wrote madly about life, when the chance allowed her.

On a rare day off, she was having coffee and a cigarette at a canal side café, when she notices a young boy sitting under a table. She went over and asked him where his mother was, he pointed towards the most elegant women she had ever seen. Thin woman. All dressed in navy. A flower in her hair. She had huge red lips. And twinkle eyes. When she caught her eye, she smiled and walked over. The two women began to chat. The little boy, played happily on the ground beside them. The woman with the huge red lips had a soft kind voice. She was the wife of an English professor. She hated Amsterdam. She felt like she was surrounded by the remnants or war. She was looking for a nanny for her son, Levi, while she became involved in The Women’s Society,

3 months later, she found herself on a boat to Ireland, with the Hodge family. After the day in the café, she began a new life as a nanny. She became Levis second mother. She was almost a fully fledged member of the Hodge family. Till the day she died. She had three second names. Hodge, Hoffman, Murphy.
She had never been to the beach; Levi insisted he be taken to the beach as soon as they arrived in the sea side town of Backwater. She loved the vast expanding ever lasting look of the water and the san between her toes. She loved the wind. She described how she felt at her most free there.
The next morning, while playing with Levi, she noticed a man, trousers rolled up, with no shirt on, walking
in the water . He was tall and handsome. He had broad shoulders. He turned around and caught her looking. She blushed and looked back down at the sand. She could sense him staring at her. His eyes bore into her back. She heard his footsteps. He stood behind her. Not too close. But close enough she could smell sweet cigarettes and old spice. He moved closer. His breath danced around her neck. He whispered into her ear, that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He asked her to be his wife.


She agonized for three days. What to say??? What way to put it.
He had been at the Hodges house for lunch and dinner, every day since. They loved him. A school master. Founded a library. A theater group. Mrs. Hodge was very fond of him, telling her he was an amazing catch.
One day after dinner, everyone was enjoying a cigarette on the patio. White wine in hand.
‘I’m sorry, I wont be returning with you too Holland. I’m getting married’ the words just fell out of her mouth. He looked at her and smiled... the masculine, wide white tooth smile. Mrs. Hodge was speechless for a moment, then jumped up and hugged her tight. ‘De liefde wint altijd’ (love always wins)

She has never looked back. She proceeded to marry. And 5 kids. Each time returning to Holland to have them. She supported her husband through every obstacle he faced. She was loyal. He treated her like a queen. She never worked a day in her life. She was a socialite. Involved in many charities and organizations. She lived to be 85. She died of cancer caused by the chemicals she was exposed to during the war. She has never said a bitter word about the war. She has never shed a tear. She has never blamed it for her killing her family. She has always had a positive outlook on life. Always made her own way. She put a 100% effort into everything.

She was my grandmother.










I was asked to write a piece about my grandmother, she survived ww2. this is a rough rough rough draft. i know my english leaves alot to be desired. its not my first lanuage... and sometimes I just get mixed up!!!

4diarmuid

Dear Anjelicaz,

a lovely piece tah deserves to be filled out into a longer short story or indeed a novel

Don't apologise for your odd errors in English. Mijn Nederlands is vresilijk. Ik was aleen twee jaar in Nederland.

It would be good to know the full story. Worth thinking about it.

I wrote a novel based on a Jewish girl and her experiences during the war, Mokum legacy. No one is really interested in a full novel on the war but from a female standpoint it is worth a short story for radio.

Regards