Chapter 4 fourth quarter

My mother and I stood silently in front of my father's simple and shabby tomb.Downpours lashed the soggy black earth, each drop sending more sand into the murky puddles above. A rough cross of rowan wood stood proudly against the billowing clouds against the inclement weather.Although it was afternoon, the sky looked like night had fallen early.A bolt of lightning pierced the sky, and several shadows were briefly reflected on the ground, followed by thunder. I held my mother's hand tightly, and the tears I held back still slid down my face mixed with the rain.I subconsciously stuck out my tongue and licked my lips. The salty tears stimulated the taste buds and evoked unforgettable memories from the past.

On the Black Sea near Constanta, the spring wind brings the tide to the beach, stirring up spray and foam on the shore, and a salty mist fills the air.After nearly two years, those memories are as fresh as yesterday.It was the spring of 1942, and I had just turned ten.Dad took me on vacation to the seaside to make his "little nurse" fully recover from that illness.In fact, I had already recovered from my illness by then. "Daddy, I will never forget you," I whispered breathlessly, "forever." My mother glanced at me: "Anka?" "It's nothing, mother. I'm just talking to myself. But it's time for us to go back, Nikolay is tired, and you must be too."

There is no point in answering or responding to these words of mine.Words are a liability, especially at a time like this.A burst of thunder overshadowed my mother's voice, and I didn't hear what she said. "The storm is abating," I said as we turned a corner onto the main road not far from home. "It is weakening, Anka," replied the mother, "so that you and Nikolay can sleep more peacefully. There is enough noise at night without the din of nature." I smiled and agreed.I've barely had a good night's sleep in the past few weeks, and the rumble of passing trucks and tanks in the distance keeps me awake.

Behind us, the throbbing engine of a car spews invisible exhaust into the night.We lowered our heads and scanned the passing trucks.The uniforms of those in the car were indistinguishable in the dim twilight.But that doesn't really matter.Baba had said that the Gestapo and the Iron Guard were the same, no matter what their nationality, or what their name was. It wasn't until the truck disappeared into the darkness that we were able to breathe again. The rain started to lighten, and by the time we got home, it had turned into a drizzle.But the smell of damp hair and clothes still filled every corner of our cabin at once.

Nicholas was laid lightly on a worn rug, and he had fallen asleep.I wiped his hair lightly with a dry handkerchief while my mother covered him with a thin sheet.Luckily Mom's coat had weathered the storm and the rain, so Nikolai's clothes were still dry.I took the shoes off his little feet and made him lie as comfortable as possible.I stretched out my hand to touch his red face, and a slight smile appeared on my lips, because I knew that, at least, he was still sleeping in a peaceful dreamland.