A Miracle for Mama

“Will Mama make it?” I asked Father. He smiled down at me, his eyes wet.

“I don’t think so, Libi. I think she has influenza, and it’s gotten worse,” he said, his voice cracking and barely above a whisper. I looked over at Mama, curled up in blankets, her long brown hair sticking to her neck.

“If we weren’t hiding, could anything save her?” I asked, turning back toward Father.

“Maybe medicine, sweetheart, but all we can do now is hope for a miracle,” Father said.

I felt my eyes well up as I thought of everything: my best friend moving away, going into hiding, Mama falling sick. It all became too much, and I started sobbing.

I couldn’t fall asleep that night. Finally, I got up and decided I couldn’t let Mama die. I hurriedly crossed the floor to the ladder against the wall and climbed up. A loud creak came from the hatch as I opened it and turned toward my parents. They continued to sleep, and I climbed out onto the first floor.

The rest of the journey through dark alleys was quiet. As I snuck into the pharmacy, I double-checked. Nobody had seen me.

“Who’s there?” a man asked from the back of the room. I light flickered on, and I saw the face of Mr. Bartmann, one of my dad’s friends. “Libi?” he asked as he focused on my face.

“I need medicine for Mama. She has influenza,” I said, trying to convey the urgency in my voice.

“Of course,” he said, jumping into his role of pharmacist. “Here you go. Now hurry back and be careful!” he said, handing me a bottle he had pulled out from behind the counter.

“Thank you so much,” I said and I ran home. On my way, I saw a couple Nazis, but I simply waited in the shadows. I flew into the barn, opened the hatch, and climbed down. I went over to where Mama and Father slept and left the medicine on the table next to them, then quickly scribbled them a note:

“Here’s your miracle.”