Illa - Part 1

3-Year Old German Girl Remembers the Beginning of WWII

This is a true story hand-written by Ilse and posted by her daughter on Steemit.

My earliest childhood memories go back to the age of three. As a small child, my life was good and whole. With my mother on my side, I felt warm and safe and had no bigger worries, than what song we would sing or what story Mom would tell or read to me. We had many books. My father had been a book salesman at a kiosk in the main train station in Hamburg-Altona.

One of my favorite story books was The Fables of Rübezahl. Actually, I was fascinated by that old German folklore. He lived in the deep, dark woods and was able to do nasty, evil deeds; something to really be afraid of. I liked him because he also did noble deeds. Most of the time, he would appear as a dreadful monster, but other times he would take on the form of any animal he wanted. On special occasions, he became an old man with a long grey beard, who walked with a cane. It was then, that he watched people, especially children to see if they were good or bad. Later he punished the bad, and rewarded the good by the granting of a wish. Since my Mother had told me many times that I was a good girl (and of course I knew that). I could not wait to meet Rübezahl. I tried to imagine how exiting that would be and what my wish would be. This is important because two years later, I did meet Rübezahl! That story I will leave for later.

We had a small apartment with few rooms. I liked the kitchen best of all. It was the room we used the most. We were still heating and cooking with coal; charcoal briquettes. The coal was stored beside the hearth in a crate that had the right height for me to sit on. Even so I had my own little table and chairs, and of course the big ones around the kitchen table, the crate was my favorite seat. I watched Mom cook, or do other things and we would talk. While she did her chores, I listened to a story that she told me so often. It was about the most wonderful man in the world, one that I could not remember ever having met; my Father. There was a picture of him placed on the piano in the living room. A tall slim redheaded guy. I thought he might be alright but I could not understand all the fuss Mom made about him. I liked stories about Rübezahl just as much. The room I liked least, was my own bedroom; so boring! A big toy box, my books, and a bed; that is all I can remember about it. Oh yeah, and the afternoon naps that were compulsory. How else could one be healthy and strong?

My Mom told me how good naps were for me. It was also her quiet time. She used that time to read, knit or play the piano. I enjoyed listening to the piano and since I was never tired at nap-time, I would sneak out of my room to play quietly in the kitchen. Knowing Mom was busy gave me time to decorate the kitchen with my toys, and I had quite a few. My quest; to find new places, and for that, one had to be inventive; and I was. Using the whole apartment would have been far better. I became really good at adorning space with my toys. My Mom thought I had a talent for decorating and that I would make a great interior designer later in life. That never happened.

One day I found the perfect material for my masterful artwork; the charcoal briquettes. They were absolutely beautiful! Formed like bricks and smooth to the touch, why did I not think of them earlier? I found places for them my Mother could not even think of. On the top of the piano, the dining room table, under the pillows, on the chesterfield and in the master bedroom behind the curtains or stuck between the flowers on the windowsill. One day I had a big surprise for Mom. On the kitchen floor, I created a beautiful castle. The only problem I encountered was that the coal was not colorfast. So, my clothes looked dark grayish and my face was kind of black, especially around the month. Naturally I had to find out how they tasted and they turned out not too bad. For some reason, Mom was not impressed with my castle. The next day she locked up the charcoal and I was unable to play with them again. What she still had to realize was that I was not only an artist, but also resourceful. The next day I found a new thing in the kitchen to use as decoration. The bin with the cold ashes was unlocked and within reach. Although not as interesting as briquettes, they were easy to work with. All I had to do was throw handfuls of it in the air. It looked like nice grey snow coming down gracefully and covering everything. This was the first time I saw my mother cry. Needless to say, the ashes were locked up too.

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by@susieisms

https://steemit.com/writing/@susieisms/illa-part-2