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."