Winter DaysBy Katharina Gerlach
“Tim? Katie? We’re getting close to the border. Remember, no talking! Even if they ask you something, you’re not to speak,” Father reminded us as we sped along the tarmac. Trees stood on either side of the road, flitting past so fast they blurred into each other. The melting snow made the whole countryside look gray and forlorn, and the air coming through the air vents smelled of snow and wet soil.
“Pah,” Tim said. “I’m not afraid of some border patrol guards.” My brother, only eleven months younger than I, liked to pretend he knew everything, but he didn’t. Maybe he needed to grow as old as me to understand how dangerous this journey was.
“We will all end up in prison,” Mother said in a shaky voice that scared me more than father’s threat to burn all our
