The sun is high and hot. The nettles and overgrowth scratch our ankles. We three siblings, on a long-awaited pilgrimage, walk up and down aisles and aisles of gravestones, some modern and readable, some old and fallen. We search for Moses, a distant relative who was a klezmer musician who migrated to Vienna. We have an old black-and-white photo of relatives, all wearing hats, surrounding the gravestone. Suddenly, “I found it!” And there, leaning over and barely legible, we found him. We surround the grave, with our hats on, honoring our past, and take our own photo.
Andrea Eisenberg is an obstetrician-gynecologist who enjoys non-fiction writing.