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A Prayer to Memory    (Continued)

March 23, 2012

At least not until that night.

My mother shook me awake deep in the night. The darkness was so thick I could not see her face, only hear her shaking voice.

“Elsie, get up. Now. Come, we have to hide.” It was the panic in her voice that made me rise. I had never heard my mother scared. She had always been my calm center, her cool blond hair and ocean blue eyes soothing my temper. This was only the first of many changes to everything I had previously known that would occur in the next few months.

I heard shouting and glass breaking in the distance, then screams.

“Quickly! Elsie!”

We scurried down the stairs, the wood cold on my bare feet.

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