Back to the Root So the Branches Can Rise

This morning, I sat across the table from someone who knows exactly where I come from—not just the people, but the line.

We didn’t talk about what’s been going on. We talked about names. About the stories that outlive the ones who carry them.

She holds them. Stories from before I was born. Stories I didn’t know I needed to remember.

Now I sit with that weight—gentle, but real. A thread of memory running through me.

We spoke of Poland. Of the symbol passed down. Of the pieces of me I’ve never met but have always carried.

I’ve spent most of my life moving forward. But right now, I’m going back. Not to stay, but to gather. To bring forward what was almost lost.

This isn’t about escaping. It’s about remembering.

This isn’t just my story anymore. It belongs to the ones before me. And the ones after.

It’s time to tell it.