Pedro is still too young to know his real identity. The adults said prayers after he went to bed. They did the same during any of the Holy Days, even those who put children central. He does not even know his real name is Eli, a name the father he never met had picked out for him. For now, he was no different from any other Christian boy. And yet….
“Pedro, let’s go home! Pedro!”.
The boy was enjoying his run too much to obey, and pretended not to hear his grandfather’s call. Diego tried another tactic.
“You know what mamma is making today?”.
That drew the boy’s attention. He looked at his adoptive grandfather with those big brown eyes everyone loved so much.
“What day is it?” Diego hinted.
The boy frowned. After an instance, his face lit up. “Friday!” the boy replied.
“Which means mamma is making…”.
Pedro paused again, his little mind hard at work. “Adafina!” the boy answered, and instantly started running home to his favourite dish. “A-da-fi-na! A-da-fi-na!”
“Take the street to your right, Pedro, right!” Diego called after him, speeding up his pace “No, other right!”. At his age, it was difficult to yell, laugh and run at the same time.
Maybe when he is ten. Or a bit later. But definitely before his thirteenth birthday. Then we will tell him his real name. And teach him. He will have much to learn before his Bar Mitzvah.
And I will make sure he knows his history, Diego vowed. What happened here cannot be left forgotten.