Memories are at times triggered by subtle or blatant images or experiences. This picture of a woman with a number on her arm rattled locks, chains and many doors bringing me face to face with my four year old self sitting on Mrs. Zuckerman’s lap. My mom went in to work one weekend and I was tagged along. Fast forward to my little person being placed, lovingly, on Mrs. Zuckerman’s lap while she played with my hair and gave me Coca Cola. I remember, as if it were right now, noticing her arm for the first time and seeing the number. So I asked her, between sips of my delicious Coca Cola, about the number on her arm. I can hear the texture of her voice as she whispered her response. The words she told me remain locked, unshakable in my four year old memory, but what she said to me changed me forever. This sweet woman warned me that monsters live and breathe in our midst.

The monsters are now within our home…so sad. Bless you Mrs. Zuckerman.



Categories: Politics


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