Holocaust survivors, second generation (9)

I must have been 6.

We were in our car, standing at a red light. My father driving, my mother next to him and me in the backseat.

Next to us, real close, another car with German plates stopped. The driver looked into our car and smiled from behind his closed window. My mother was almost closer to him then to my father and she got angry with this German guy. He kept smiling at her while her anger developed into a panic rage.

I can’t remember any other occasIon, seeing my mother with that sort of mixture of anger and panic.

Light turned green, both cars pulled away at the same speed, at the same close distance to each other. Then the guy took a right turn.

And we continued along the road. My parents in the front and me in the back as observing fellow passenger.

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