April, 1946

We are living now in a castle called Les Boulayes. It shines with cleanliness. It's spring and the warm sunshine embraces us warmly, lovingly. After so much suffering, we crave tenderness. As if the sun could understand, it touches us and caresses us. Oh, sun, how precious you've become for us!

The castle is surrounded by a beautiful park, where stillness rules. Only the birds are heard occasionally. I watch them enviously. How free they are! In the middle of the formal garden is a pool where tiny fish swim. The flowers are bobbing their pretty heads toward the sun as well. The air is fresh, life-restoring. A glorious day.

Instinctively, I take a deep breath, open my arms, as if attempting to fly. Life can be so beautiful! Tomorrow is Pesach, the holiday of freedom. Will I ever really be free? Free of pain, of sorrow, of the smell of crematoria and the stench of Bergen-Belsen? Will I ever have a family to celebrate Passover together and regain the feeling of belonging? I doubt it!

Here at Boulayes the religious survivors of many camps will hold their first Passover seder tomorrow in freedom. 120 of us have gathered here so far. We are expecting another thirty to arrive. Two huge, long tables have been set up: one for the women, one for the men. Tonight we'll all march in to celebrate our first Pesach. 150 condemned souls. 150 people who were driven away from their homes. 150 suffering souls, missing their parents, their families, from whom they were forcefully separated. 150 martyrs who never asked for their martyrdom. 150 orphans who were torn brutally from their dear ones. 150 innocent persons who were thrown into hell for one reason only: they were born Jewish.

Yet, after all they've been through, they are more stubborn than ever, more determined to keep their faith and adhere to the ancient religion, which from time to time in every generation suffers innocent martyrs for believing in the Creator, in One G-d. More Jewish than ever, the 150 will sit down to the seder and, with true hope and desire, with utter faith and belief, they will pronounce: "L-shanah haba-ah bi'Yerushelayim" (Next year in Jerusalem).

Les Boulayes, April 15, 1946

What a commotion! The preparations for our first Pesach after our liberation, all the girls are knocking themselves out washing, scrubbing, cleaning rugs, ironing. Each of us is doing their share. The boys are helping as well. They're moving furniture in order to clean behind it. They're carrying water, and some are helping to clean in order to be ready in time. I took a minute's pause from my chores, and what a sight greeted my eyes! All young, able bodies, full of energy, working away with smiles and satisfaction on their faces. No one needs to be coaxed; it's a harmonious, cooperative group. While scrubbing the foyer, I was reminded of doing similar work, by force, in the camp. We did finish the work there as well, but oh, how reluctantly. For there we were slaves, and here we are free people. Work is work. Only our attitude towards it makes the difference.