Which of Our Children Do I Choose?
These words have stuck with me since first hearing them.
I have a strange reoccurring nightmare. I had it yesterday. I cannot fathom why. So let me tell you about it.
I am in a German city and my wife and children are on a German military truck in some torn-up hell hole during WW2. They are being sent to a concentration camp.
The crazy thing is, I am too young to have fought in that war. And I am not Jewish. Yet it is absolutely vivid. I can feel the hairs of my children wash over my arm while in the nightmare.
It happens when I am in bed or wide awake, perhaps sitting and having a coffee. It could be day or night.
I had it yesterday after reading Claire Franky’s most recent piece. It’s brilliant.
They are looking at me from the truck. My wife and my four children. Powerless. A German officer is teasing me, goading me, and asking me which two I want to save. I am staring at the 5 people that make up my world. And they are staring back, their mouths silent but their eyes screaming at me, pleading with me.
I can only save 2. It is always just 2.
Except for my wife. She does not make eye contact. Her eyes are dull. Lifeless. The enormity of the situation and dilemma she…
