Album of Memories

Don't worry if life throws you a dark tunnel. It's just ink spilled on the page with your biography—you can just paint over it with a white crayon.

Among the old books in Grandma's bookcase is an album. In a dark room, always gloomy, quiet, and gray, where only Grandma can bring joy. Grandma likes to reminisce about old stories, and Ania likes to listen to them; they're meant for long winter evenings. The girl enters a room smelling of chamomile and tea. By the window stands a wicker armchair, in which Grandma rocks. Along the wall is an old, comfortable bed, and next to it is Grandma's bookcase. Ania looks at it, and something is missing. Yes, it's Grandma's old album—it's not there, it's on the table. Ania sits down next to the old woman and hugs her tightly. Then she sits down on the bed, takes a sip of tea, and waits for Grandma to tell stories related to the chosen photo.

This time, it lands on a beautiful, old wedding photograph of Grandma. Ania is very happy because it's her favorite story, and even though she knows it by heart, she always listened with interest. Grandma starts, saying she mustn't be disturbed.

It was 1942 – the war was raging. I was eighteen. My father, your great-grandfather Leopold, was involved in a secret society. I don't know how, but the Germans found out about it and had to deal with it. I remember that day, it was Wednesday, June 21st. They came to our house at 4:20 a.m. They knocked loudly on the windows and door. My father opened the door. They asked my father for his name, address, and age. They entered the house. They shot up into the air, waking the whole family. The children started screaming and hiding. I stood there, terrified, silently, staring at the officers – there were two of them. They spoke German to my father, so I didn't understand a thing. And suddenly, one of the Germans led my mother and father out of the house. The other stayed in the house with me and...

Grandma pauses, drinks her tea, reflects, and smiles faintly, though her eyes are sad. Ania sits quietly and says nothing, knowing not to ask questions or interrupt; Grandma will continue her story in a moment.

...and he ordered tea for himself and me, speaking in clear Polish. Surprised and trembling with fear, I obeyed his command and handed him the tea. Then I took my own and sat down across from him.

Grandma reaches for the tea again and says quietly, "It's as good as it was back then."

I didn't know what was happening outside and was very worried about my parents, but I knew I couldn't leave because that officer was watching me. Meanwhile, he took off his cap. I stared at him and noticed he was handsome. He had dark, close-cropped hair, a high forehead, and that look in his eyes, so trusting and innocent, although his eyes were a dull color, simply gray. His face was pale, and I could see the strain. He didn't say anything for a long time, just looked at me.

Ania knew that Grandma was very pretty in her youth, as evidenced by her photograph.

Then he began to tell how German officers were looking for men among the Poles who spoke German well. So they took him to Germany and told him what to do. He didn't want to go door-to-door, scare people, and kill his own countrymen; he was forced to do so under penalty of death. He confessed that he had only killed one man. Later, he started going door-to-door with a friend who was in the same situation, and thus neither of them killed. As he told me, my fear vanished. To this day, I don't know why he confided in me and trusted me. He said I enchanted him with my beauty and demeanor, but I know that wasn't the real reason.

Grandma said, "Drink, or it'll get cold," and she took the tea herself.

Time passed quickly; I don't even remember what we talked about or how long. The second man called Antoni, and he quickly left, leaving a small note with his address.

Ania saw the note. My grandmother still has it with her.

My parents returned home. My father quickly asked what we were doing there. When I told him we'd spoken, I told my parents Antoni's story. My mother was deeply moved, but my father didn't believe me.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about what to do next. I decided I'd fallen in love and had to follow my heart. I took my money and a few essential clothes from home. A few hours later, I arrived at the address he'd given me. I was overjoyed to see him. We moved in together, and I was very happy, although I was constantly plagued by guilt about my parents. I didn't know what they thought of it all. Well, a year later, I found out.

Here, my grandmother interrupted. The joy faded from her face, and sadness, perhaps some regret, took its place. My grandmother's unpleasant mood didn't spread; she sat silently, her expression unreadable.

We went to invite them to the wedding. My father told me I was no longer his daughter. My mother looked at me sadly. I knew she was the only one who understood, but she didn't say a word. Antoni tried to explain it, but to no avail. I left the house crying. Despite this, we got married.

Grandma tenderly caresses the photograph.

I became pregnant, we were so happy. Antoni took care of me, and we thought things could only get better from here… We were wrong. Life and death came in one day. The day your mother was born, the Germans learned of Antoni's betrayal and brutally killed him. They didn't care that his wife was in the hospital or that his daughter had just been born. They were ruthless and cruel.

Grandma falls silent. After a moment, she speaks with regret. "I didn't even go to the funeral.

I was deeply affected; if it weren't for your mother, I would have surely taken my own life. Because what is life worth without the person I love?"

After a year, I remarried, but I was never as happy as I was with your grandfather. Sylvester loved me very much, showed great understanding and tenderness. However, I never stopped loving Antoni. And she adds quietly: "Even now, I love him."

Grandma smiles, closes the album, finishes her tea, stands up, puts the album back, and pats Ania's head