"1966"

It was 1966- then, so I can only imagine and invent their words myself because I was only three, and still ignorant of politics. Though now I understand what must have been intense emotion, the sensitivity of the issue and I can almost hear my parents' discussion... how my father must have broached the subject direct, insistent and his addressing my fearful mother... " Ten years have past, it is not the same as during the revolution- we've become American citizens now and that counts for much. The child needs to see her grandmother and my mother has a right to come to know her. You worry too much- we'll be fine, it's safe, think of this as a vacation, enjoy yourself- a trip will do your nerves good." And then, my mother, on this insistent too- unwavering... my mother, widowed by the communists remarried to my father ( and my older half-sister, what of her?) I can nearly feel their anguish... " How can you ask me why do I worry? you who knows our loss, yes it is my country and I am sure it is still beautiful- but for me, the very air is still cursed... how can you think of only your mother and our child? What of my child? What she must feel? There is where they killed her father... we're in America now- why go back,? re- open old wounds? No, no we cannot go..." And now, what I cannot imagine- it is simply too much that my mother and sister stayed the month in Illinois while my father and I went to Hungary... I remember nothing of that trip though later we'd go again ( and my mother came around, though my sister never went.) And I wonder if, on that occasion my mother feigned cheerfulness- ( all for my sake) we, the " model" immigrants supposedly living the " American Dream."