Over The Hills And Far Away...
Today in 1943, I think, Germans invaded Belgium. My grandparents were living there at the time. Early in the morning, my grandfather, Abraham, woke up my grandmother, Henriette, and said "The germans are dropping bombs, we have to get out of here." Now i'm not exactly sure if this was what he said, but that's basically what happened. My grandparents left to become refugees for seven grueling years. They moved around from Belgium to France to Switzerland etc. My grandmother never told me her story, she never liked to talk about how she escaped death camps while many of her siblings, her parents, her aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, almost everyone she held dear in her life were killed in a mass slaughter. She tells my mother and when I go home this summer, she will finally start to tell me her life story of how she was born in Austria during World War I and how she survived World War II. I can't believe I thought i had it bad by being made fun of at times during my high-school career. People like my grandparents had so much more in their life that could not compare to the horrors of high-school. Actually, i should not even say that high-school is a "horror". It's horrible, yes, but it's not half as bad as what so much of mankind has been through since the begining. We as young adults have much to discuss, but we have no decisions to make except who our friends are, who we will date, what we wear to classes everyday, the little things that make our lives superficial. Not until we are 18 will we have to make the imperative decisions generations before us once made. Sometimes I wonder, will my generation make a mockery of life? I have fears that the 18-year olds of my time will turn our world into a so-called "shit show". I wish we could have it all , I wish everything will work out, but what if it doesn't?