Sarah Kobrinsky

Hungary, 1944

for Andrea

A family is in hiding under a house. The youngest, a boy barely two, is the only 
one to sleep on a bed. The others sleep like well-dressed sardines on the floor—
well-dressed, even here, to preserve a little dignity. And under these circumstances, 
under this ordinary house, he is still a boy, like any other boy, eager to be an even 
bigger boy. But the world around him is so small, the things he longs for are few. 
“When I grow up,” he points to the floor, “I want to sleep on the big bed with all of