#janleg2

[kieraplaysthesims]

Fall 1927

The crisp autumn air settled over Windenburg, painting the landscape in hues of orange, red, and gold. Inside the cozy Schmitz household, life was abuzz with activity. Antonija cradled baby Horst in her arms near the living room staircase, her laughter echoing softly as she entertained her son with his bottle. Horst giggled, clutching at his mother’s fingers, his soft brown eyes lighting up the room with innocence and joy.

In the kitchen, Gustav shared a tender moment with little Lisolette, who had just woken from a nap. The aroma of freshly brewed tea and baked apples wafted through the air, a testament to the family's dedication to savoring simple pleasures. Gustav scooped Lisolette into his arms, whispering soothing words in a mix of German and Yiddish, planting a playful kiss on his daughter's rosy cheek. The girl's soft curls brushed against her father’s cheek as they exchanged smiles, their bond growing stronger with each passing day.

The house itself was adorned for the season, with branches of autumn leaves tucked into vases and handmade decorations from Antonija’s creative hands scattered thoughtfully around the home. The sound of a gentle piano melody drifted from the parlor—a tune Gustav often hummed when rocking the twins to sleep.

[kieraplaysthesims]

September 1926

The Schmitz household was steeped in quiet contentment. The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the lace curtains, illuminating the living room where Antonija and Gustav each indulged in their favorite pastimes.

Antonija sat gracefully at the upright piano, her fingers lightly gliding over the keys as a melancholic waltz filled the room. She wore a simple yet elegant navy dress, her hair tucked under a sailor-style cap. The music was a soothing companion to the steady rain pattering against the windows, a rare but cherished moment of peace in their bustling lives.

Gustav, seated on the couch nearby, worked diligently on a cross stitch of a train. His patchwork blazer, a mix of textures and colors, was a testament to his eclectic style. The cloth in his hands slowly transformed, each detail lovingly etched with precision. A stack of books on the coffee table beside him bore titles about history and folklore, further revealing his passion for crafts and storytelling.

Between them, the coffee table was laden with an assortment of embroidery hoops, lavender bouquets, and freshly baked pastries. The air carried the faint scent of lavender and the warmth of sugar, a comforting embrace that wrapped around their shared space. Antonija’s embroidery lay in progress next to her, a depiction of a quaint cottage surrounded by flowers—a reflection of her hopes for their future.

From time to time, they would exchange a smile or a gentle word. Gustav would pause in his work to admire Antonija’s melody, while she would glance over her shoulder to check on his progress, her eyes lighting up with approval. Though they were both absorbed in their individual hobbies, their connection was palpable, a quiet rhythm of companionship that needed no words.

Their home, decorated with embroidered hoops on the walls and books spilling from shelves, was a perfect reflection of their personalities—creative, warm, and full of life.

[kieraplaysthesims]

A Quiet Celebration: Tu BiShvat, January 1927

In the winter of 1927, Antonija and Gustav Schmitz prepared for a special evening in their cozy German home. The house smelled of freshly baked challah and hearty stew simmering on the stove. The soft hum of the radiator was interrupted by the occasional laughter of the twins, Lisolette and Horst, who were playing with their toys in the nursery. Tonight was no ordinary night—it was Shabbat, and the Schmitz family cherished this weekly pause from their bustling lives.

Antonija, dressed in her best modest dress and a hat she had pinned delicately, stood by the dining table. She had just set down the challah, its golden crust shining in the dim light of the chandelier. The table was adorned with a simple white cloth, two candlesticks waiting to be lit, and a cup of wine for the Kiddush. Gustav sat at the table in his modest blue jacket and cap, observing his wife with a soft smile. He was a man of quiet strength, but his heart swelled with pride and love for Antonija, who worked tirelessly to make their house a warm and welcoming home.

With the twins settled, Gustav joined Antonija as she prepared to light the Shabbat candles. As she struck the match and lit the wicks, the flames flickered, casting a warm glow across the room. She closed her eyes, her hands moving in slow circles as she recited the blessing in a gentle, melodic tone. Gustav bowed his head, his cap in hand, silently appreciating the moment of peace.

When the candles were lit, Antonija turned to Gustav with a wide smile. “Baruch Hashem,” she said softly, expressing her gratitude. Gustav rose from his chair and wrapped her in a warm embrace, her laughter filling the air. Their love and partnership shone brightly, a beacon of hope and stability for their growing family in uncertain times.

As the evening continued, Gustav recited the Kiddush, holding the cup of wine high, and Antonija responded with heartfelt "Amens." They shared the challah, tearing off pieces and passing them to each other with tender smiles. The warmth of Shabbat enveloped their home, the gentle hum of tradition providing a comforting rhythm to their lives.

[kieraplaysthesims]

Hannukah 1929

The first night of Hanukkah arrived with a brisk chill, the kind that painted frost on windows and turned the world outside the Schmitz home into a snow-kissed canvas. Inside, however, the warmth of family and tradition pushed away the cold. Antonija lit the shamash candle with careful reverence, her golden hair catching the flickering glow as she recited the blessings. The twins, Lisolette and Horst, now three years old, clapped their tiny hands as the first Hanukkah candle was lit, their excitement spilling into giggles that filled the room.

Gustav stood nearby, watching his wife and children with a look of quiet pride. Though life in Windenburg had become increasingly tense for Jewish families, moments like this reminded him of what was worth protecting. He smiled and knelt to scoop up Lisolette, who had wandered too close to the menorah, her curious fingers reaching for the tiny flames.

“Careful, my little licht,” he said, kissing her forehead as he carried her back to her chair at the table. Horst, sitting neatly in his highchair, looked up at his father with wide eyes, holding a dreidel in his small hand as if it were a precious treasure.

The table was set with care: latkes glistening with oil, a bowl of applesauce at the center, and sufganiyot dusted with powdered sugar. Antonija had spent the day preparing, humming old family songs in the kitchen while Gustav had taken the children to the market. Despite the growing unease in the streets, Gustav insisted on bringing home a jar of jam for the sufganiyot, a small luxury for the holiday.

As they sat down to eat, Antonija handed each child a small gift wrapped in simple paper. Horst tore into his with uncontainable excitement, revealing a tiny wooden train carved by Gustav himself. Lisolette, more delicate in her approach, gasped when she unwrapped a small knitted doll Antonija had made during the quiet evenings.

After dinner, the family gathered by the menorah. Gustav sat at the piano, his fingers dancing over the keys as he played "Ma'oz Tzur." Antonija sang softly, her voice weaving with the melody like a warm embrace. The children played on the rug by the fire, their laughter mingling with the music.

[kieraplaysthesims]

April 1930

The soft glow of the morning sun streams through the bedroom window, casting a golden light on the modest couch where Gustav and Antonija sit together. The room is quiet save for the rustle of the newspaper in Gustav’s hands and the rhythmic pull of thread as Antonija works on her cross-stitching.

Antonija’s fingers move deftly, pulling vibrant colors through the taut fabric of her hoop. Her focus is serene, though her ears are attuned to Gustav’s voice as he reads aloud from the paper. His deep baritone is steady, but the words he speaks carry a weight that settles heavily in the air.

“They’re ramping up campaigns against Jewish communities,” Gustav says, his tone measured but his brows furrowed. He folds the paper slightly, resting it on his lap as he glances at Antonija. “It’s in every column, every headline. It’s growing louder.”

Antonija pauses her stitching, letting the needle rest against the fabric as she looks up at him. Her expression is calm, but her eyes betray the flicker of unease she feels. “Do you think it’s as bad as they say?” she asks softly, her voice hesitant, as though speaking the question aloud makes it more real.

Gustav lets out a slow breath, folding the paper completely now and setting it on the arm of the couch. “I think,” he begins, his voice quiet but resolute, “we can’t afford to think it’s anything less. We have to be ready.”

Antonija nods, her hands returning to her stitching, though her movements are slower, more deliberate. The bright reds and greens of her thread seem almost out of place in the somber conversation, a stark reminder of the life they’ve built—a life filled with love, beauty, and routine. A life now shadowed by uncertainty.

The twins’ laughter drifts faintly from the playroom, a cheerful counterpoint to the gravity of their discussion. Gustav leans back against the couch, his gaze lingering on Antonija as she continues her work. The domesticity of the moment—the quiet companionship, the shared space—feels fragile in the face of the world outside their home.

“We’ll figure it out,” Gustav says after a long pause, his hand reaching out to rest lightly on Antonija’s. “Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”

Antonija looks up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “We always do,” she replies, her voice soft but steady.

[kieraplaysthesims]

June 1930

The salty breeze carried a hint of the unknown as Gustav and Antonija Schmitz stood shoulder to shoulder at the railing of the ship, their twin children clutching the bars with tiny, curious hands. Behind them lay the shadow of Germany, a country that had been their home, their sanctuary, and now a memory they were forced to leave behind. The harbor, bustling with life, grew smaller with each passing moment, the cacophony of dockworkers and seagulls fading into the hum of the ship's engine.

Antonija's hand rested lightly on Gustav's arm, her delicate fingers trembling. "Do you think they'll remember any of this?" she whispered, glancing down at their twins, who were peering over the railing with wide eyes, enchanted by the vast expanse of the ocean.

Gustav followed her gaze, his dark eyes softening. "Perhaps not the specifics," he replied, his voice low and steady, "but they’ll remember the courage it took to leave. They'll carry that with them."

The twins, oblivious to the weight their parents carried, giggled as the spray of the waves misted their faces. Their innocence was a balm for Antonija, who forced a small smile as she watched them. They were a beacon of hope in the sea of uncertainty—a reminder of why they had made this difficult choice.

As the coastline of Germany blurred into the horizon, Antonija tightened her grip on Gustav's arm. "I’ll miss the gardens," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "And the sound of the church bells on Sunday mornings."

Gustav nodded, his throat tightening. He would miss the quiet moments at their kitchen table, the familiarity of their neighborhood, the rhythm of their life. But those comforts had become overshadowed by the growing unrest, the whispers of persecution that could no longer be ignored.

"We’re trading that for something greater," he said, more to himself than to her. "A chance for them to grow up without fear."

Antonija’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked at their children. The twins were a picture of innocence, their flaxen hair catching the golden light of the setting sun. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s head, inhaling the sweet scent of childhood. "We’re doing this for them," she murmured.

The ship groaned as it cut through the waves, and Gustav placed a steadying hand on Antonija's back. Together, they watched their homeland fade into the distance, their hearts heavy but resolute. The future was a vast, uncharted sea, but they would face it together, as a family.