Mama bought me a beautiful necklace on my sixth birthday.
“This is a special present.” She held up crystal beads that sparkled when touched by the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window of our apartment.
“It’s pretty, Mama, but I already have the special necklace Babciagave me.” My fingers reached for the gold Star of David I wore every day, the present from Grandma on my fifth birthday.
“I understand, Córeczka, but this is not a necklace.” I liked when Mama called me her little girl, “Córeczka,” but I wasn’t small anymore, I was six years old. She placed the beads in my hand and I examined them from every angle. Holding them up to the light, I smiled. The summer sunlight kissed the beads, causing rainbow dots to dance on the yellow kitchen walls. But the beads still looked like a necklace and I was determined to try them on.
“No.” She lowered my hands. “May I hold the beads?”
I gave them to her, and she held them in her hand. “These pretty beads are called a rosary. Can you say that word?”
“Rose-a-ree.” I tried to pronounce the new word just as she did.
“Very good. Now that you are a big girl, I am going to teach you a special game. This rosary is part of it. Do you want to learn how to play?”
“Oh yes!” I loved playing games with Mama.
“See the cross on the bottom?” I nodded. “That part is called a crucifix.”
The image frightened me. I didn’t want to touch it.
“Can you say crucifix?”
“Cru-sa-fix.”
“You...
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