Cory Holt

It was the end of 1943. On a Thursday night in late December, Gianni sat in the darkness at his kitchen table. Since the occupation, no street lamps were lit in the city, so Rome literally became an ocean of darkness, a pervading darkness seeping into even the tiniest crevices. On starry nights, Gianni retreated to the small balcony off his back door, but even the lights of the moon and stars hardly penetrated the blackness on these dark nights.
But on this night there were no stars or moon. A light mist hung over the city and the chill was penetrating. Gianni sat wrapped in a blanket and drank a cup of coffee. It was around ten-thirty, but Gianni could not sleep. Although the fear he had once felt had subsided, he was still sometimes overcome by anxiety. He often wondered if the Allies would ever reach Rome, and if they did not, what would happen to him and the Levis. It was a possibility he considered often. He knew he could persist for many more months, and probably the Levis, too, although he never spoke much with them. It was best not to make noise by fraternizing with the Levis.
Gianni's family had lived in Rome for half a millennium. The city itself had been founded more than two thousand seven hundred years before. The streets of Rome had seen more historic events and more historic people than any city in the world. The Popes had lived here, Paul had preached here. The Caesars, the emperors, both good and evil, artists, and composers had lived here, had walked the same streets he walked today. Some of the world's most impressive churches, museums, and architecture stood in Rome. But for the moment, Rome was nothing of its past greatness. True, those things remained, but Gianni's home was now the sight of fear, intimidation, and death. Indeed, Gianni more than once had muttered to himself "This is not my home."
As Gianni sat, he heard the voice of a female singing. The noise didn't startle, but surprised him, for he thought the Levis had long since been asleep. Gianni thought at first the voice belonged to Renata, but as he listened more carefully, he realized it was not. The sweet sound he heard came from daughter Anna.
Gianni first assumed that perhaps the Levis had been unable to sleep. But then he knew differently. They were celebrating. It was Hanukkah. Gianni thought of joining them out of curiosity, but then thought better of it. He was content to sit and listen. Trying to understand the song, he realized he knew not a word. Anna was singing in Yiddish. Although Gianni did not understand, the sound of the young girl's voice moved him deeply. Despite the Levis' precarious situation, the song was a hopeful one, almost happy. Yes, the Levis felt hope and faith just as he, Gianni, had learned to feel hope and faith in the midst of this ordeal. The human spirit, when it rested on faith, was truly unbeatable.
Yet Gianni still felt sadness, not for himself, nor specifically for the Levis, but for all the persecuted across Europe. Gianni did not realize the extent of the monolithic operation (known in German as "Judenaktion") waged by the Germans to purge Europe of its Jews – nor would the outside world for many months. But Gianni was aware of widespread and unprovoked death. He was sad for those who died so needlessly, and that even in losing an ordinary person such as one of the Levis, the world might be losing a gifted singer, a great thinker, a thoughtful professor, a child with dreams, a man with a young family. To have the opportunity to listen to a child such as Anna Levi sing and then declare her inhuman was unthinkable. Yet it was happening.
After several minutes, the singing ceased, and the world was quiet again. The muffled clicking of marching boots emanated from the street, passed in front of Gianni's door, then continued. Sometimes Gianni woke around eleven o'clock to this sound. At first, it had provoked fear, for he knew the sound belonged to the SS patrol, but he now no longer feared. He listened as the clicking boots passed along the opposite end of his street, then turn the corner toward Piazza Navona. Gianni went to bed.