The Silence of Trees by Valya Dudycz Lupescu Page A

egg yolk from her shirt.
    "Mama, she needs to live her own life, and you need to learn how to let things go."
    "Let things go? Let things go?" I felt the anger rising in me, "I have been letting things go my whole life, Katya. If you only knew what I have had to let go—"
    No. I decided not to do this now. She didn’t understand. How could she? What would she think? I took a few deep breaths, concentrating on my embroidery.
    "Mama, I hate it when you slip into your head like that. When you censor yourself. I just know you’re having conversations with yourself; you’ve been doing that my whole life." She stretched out her hand to touch mine. "You could try talking to me."
    Lesya came back from the kitchen, and Katya quickly pulled her hand away.
    "Everything okay in here?" Lesya asked.
    "Fine," I said.
    "Fine," Katya echoed. She took a quick breath. "After you’ve done a basic sketch on the egg, you heat the wax over the candle." Katya held the kistka over the candle. The wax in the copper cone slowly melted. "Next, with the wax you cover everything that you want to be white. You need to cover up what you want to preserve."
    I felt her staring at me.
    "But you have to trust that the truth is right there under the surface. Right, Ma? You have to trust that when you eventually burn it off, the truth will come through?"
    I ignored her and kept embroidering.
    "Keep in mind that white is the color of innocence," she said. "Purity. To use white is to invoke its powers. The power of cleansing, or starting fresh."
    Lesya held the second egg more gently, quickly sketching a pattern. I looked over at Katya’s hands. She was covering her egg with circles and dots.
    "The circle is the most powerful symbol you can put on an egg. A circle is a symbol of protection, to keep away bad thoughts or spirits. The dots possess magical powers of prediction. Together, they represent eternity. The universe."
    I watched as red stitches became flowers on my cloth.
    Katya’s hands moved skillfully across the egg. "So, what’s this about a new boyfriend?"
    I looked up at Katya, who winked at me. Lesya cast a glaring look in my direction. I shrugged.
    "Oh, just a guy I met in my ‘Leaders of the Second World War’ class. He’s gorgeous. He loves all the same things I do. He’s interested in World War II history just like me—"
    At this I had to interrupt. "Yes, but his grandparents were not on the same side as we were? Stalin and Hitler! What a perfect setting for a budding romance. You are both interested in World War II. Perfect, just perfect. As if a war could keep you two together."
    I felt the anger rising again, but this time I did not stifle it, "World War II separated people. It did not bring them together. What are you thinking, Lesya? I thought you were a smart girl!"
    "Mama! What’s gotten into you today? Why are you so angry? Calm down, okay?" Katya put her hand on my elbow to try and calm me, but I shrugged her away. I was tired of staying calm. After fifty years, a fierce storm was building. I stared at Lesya, waiting.
    "Baba, World War II brought you and Dido together. You found love during the war."
    I felt my cheeks flushing, and I was grateful for the candlelight. My hands settled into fists, and I tried to calm the rage that I felt spreading out from my chest. I exhaled a long breath.
    "What do you know of it? Nothing! You know nothing of what I lost. Nothing." I pounded my fist on the table. "For all your schooling, you have not learned about life. You can’t learn history from just a few books. History lives in the people who were there, not in numbers. Not in names of battles. Not in ‘Hitler and Stalin,’ but in me, in your Dido. In the people who died in nameless graves. What about their history? You meet a boy and read some books and think you know everything. You know nothing."
    Lesya’s eyes squinted and her lips tightened. She had her father’s temper. My temper.
    "Then tell me, Baba," she said, choosing her