Голубые ступени / Stepping into the blue

She stood still for five minutes or so and then headed down the central allеe – she was getting close now. At the familiar little gate she undid the cord fastener and entered the low-fenced enclosure. After placing two fir boughs on the grave, bushy side up, she wiped the enamelled photograph on the headstone with the palm of her hand, put her face up close to it, wiped it once again, then kissed it and took her seat once more on the damp black bench.

«Khaint ich hab do mit dir, Ziama. Du bist hat nicht vorgessen was vor ein Tag khaint? Nein, ich gleib dir, nein! (Today I’m here with you, Ziama.

You haven’t forgotten what day it is today. No, I’m sure you haven’t!)»

Passers-by naturally might have surmised that here was just a crazy old woman talking to herself. Somebody might have thought she was saying a prayer. In fact, she was simply talking with her husband.

«It was a cloudy day back then too, and you were in a hurry, as always, and I had to get to the village. We never had time to be together back then.

Still, thank God, we lived fifty-six years together, if you count the eighteen you spent in prison. But of course they count! If we hadn’t been waiting for each other all those years, we might not have survived.

«It didn’t work out with the children, because of that. If we had had four or five, you wouldn’t have minded! I should say not! I know you! You were happy about that. But thank God He gave us two. We pulled through! You were either fighting or building, or in prison.

And when you came back, I was oh so many years older – we won’t even count them.

«Of course it would have been nice if you’d waited for me. What were you in such a hurry for – to leave? You were always in a hurry! Hurry, hurry, hurry!

«It’s getting difficult for me to get here on my own. I won’t tell you about the children and grandchildren – you know everything anyway. But the great-grandchildren – well, those pishery (little scribes) – Ach, danke dir, Gotteniu! Alle gesund! (Oh, thank you God! All are healthy!)

«The rabbi said today that we should «love our neighbor as ourselves» – and that this applies most of all to people of the same profession.

Like for a cobbler it’s hardest of all to love another cobbler, or a tailor to love a tailor – because of the competition.

«Well, what d’you know, he’s probably right, that young rabbi. He’s such a clever fellow. Of course, I didn’t tell him I was coming to see you.