The phrase: "My home", it mean to me the place where I live in this moment. When war start we lived in a horse buggy for few months. Nobody would let us in because every one was afraid be prosecute by German authority.
In Mogilev: I don"t remember to much but it was hard time. We covered a lot of territory on the occupied territory. Nobody let us in because we were Jewish. We kept moving by horse, the bombs fly from the sky but we continue to drive to river Volga.
Later, the Russian government put us on the train and it took us to Kazakhstan not far from capital Alma-ata. From this place my father went on front where he was killed. My mother left alone with three children and my Auntie, with her baby, stayed with us. My Aunt work in the cafeteria and we would eat because she brought pail of soup home. My mom had to work outside and this is the way we survived four years.
After we went to Saratov. It was closed city. To go there we have to have Visa. This journey was very hard. We stayed in the police station a few times but finally we got there and start our life from nothing again.
It was hard traveling but sometime we have good time. I remember my Mother took us to the park and we listen to military orchestra around us was a loth of people and we have good time.
My mother worked very hard. Somebody told her “Go Frida, to Vilnius it'll be enough money to survive on pension that you get for your children”. We went by train it take few days. We live in Vilnius 20 years. I would count that as my home. Although we have a lot of hard times, we had good times.
We, children, grew up by ourselves. Mother work as security guard for twenty years and we looked after ourselves but we have fun. Summer time we went to camp on the Baltic sea for the children without a father (who killed during in the war). Time went by we grow up. Finish school, college, married, have children and life continue. Right now, the children encourage us to live Soviet Union but for now our home is Canada
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