The Story of Me
A Polish Invasion and a Norwegian Holocaust? WTF??
I look out my window, and flooding the city streets are
people screaming things I don't understand. Husbands
swiftly ushering their wives into solid brick buildings,
mothers scooping up their children and children leaving
behind scattered toys and trinkets upon the gray paved
walks. Everyone is running, most are crying, and someone is
coming for us! A strong hand takes me by the shoulder and
spins me from the madness outside the window.
"It's time to go. We have no time to waste. THEY will be
here soon." My husband's voice is laced with an eerie calm.
In a daze, I sprint to the living room. I wipe the shelves
clean of pictures of family and my grandad's trophies.
Gathering everything up in my arms, I cry out, "I forgot
Annie! Please Frank! Don't let them get my baby!"
I'm crying, I'm confused, I yell of the injustice to my
family and friends. My father. Oh God. He's going to get
blindsided. The garage has no windows and his machinery is
so loud! I drop the contents of my arms and fly past Frank
to warn my father. The door is cold steel and I can hear my
father singing above the hum of the machines on the the
other side. With my fists balled tight, I pummel the door.
"Daddy! They're coming! Hurry up!! Come on Daddy! Please
The noise stops, the door opens and there he stands, like
the hero in a modern western. So strong, so tall, weathered
against the storm of life.
"Please Daddy, we have to go! Frank and Annie are in the
basement. Please, hurry."
He steps inside the door, hugs me and tells me that it's
going to be ok. We make our way to the basement where we
find Frank holding Annie and restlessly walking the floor.
He sees that I am safe, and I know silent tears fell with
his relief. Daddy steers the three of us under the stairs
and I am so afraid, and so responsible. The Polish
government has deemed that all Norwegians must be stripped
of all their worldy goods in order to be "saved." The
native born, and those married in, to include all in-laws.
"They are an impure race, drowning in their own greed and
gluttony. Terminate those beyond saving."
Oh God, heavy footsteps across the barren wood floors above
"Be still Mindy. They will come quickly and leave quickly
as long as you oblige." Daddy's words are not comforting.
I look to Frank and his face is stricken with grief. All
three of us, unable to do a thing to stop the horror, sit
quietly huddled encased by the bare, wood-framed crawl
"But Daddy, Frank and I have nothing! We own few things,
most of which are second hand. Why do they do this?"
No answer comes with the boots thumping down the steps
toward us. They take everything as I sit cowering in the
arms of my husband and my father. They drop one of Grampa's
trophies. It lies on the cement floor, unnoticed by the
army of assholes stripping us of all we had worked so hard
for. I slither out from the arms of the men I love most,
and crawl across the cold cement on my hands and knees. One
of the soldiers spots me and I freeze with terror pulsing
through every inch of my body.
I look into his eyes and beg, "Please, I will pay you what
it is worth in gold. I want it not for the value, but for
the love in my heart of a man long gone. My family bases
their lives and principles on the example this man set. He
was pure, and strong and worked hard every single day of his
life. He lived with little and died with less. His only
glory and self satisfaction came from risking his life to
entertain others. He never needed to be "saved." Let us
keep this as a reminder of the pure and true things in life,
the things that matter most. Family, God and love for the
He says nothing, only turns quietly away from me and starts
up the steps with the rest of his comrades. Now I sit,
clinging to a piece of tarnished metal and rocking it like a
child. I weep not for everything taken from me, but for
what I have managed to gain. My father and husband sit,
mouths gaping, and pride radiating from their eyes. For the
first time in my life, I have done something worthwhile. I
clung to my family when it seemed the world was determined
to rip us apart. And they were proud of me.
Wow, it's COLD in here... I sit up in bed, pull up the
covers and kiss Frank's shoulder softly. A Polish Invasion
and a Norwegian Holocaust? What the fuck? * glance at the
clock* Thirty-eight minutes until the nephew gets here.
Cool, 38 more minutes to sleep!!