Though I have not written here in quite some time, the story within me of my roots, and in fact, the journey itself, though not through space, has continued within me through time. I have been devouring Holocaust novels and memoirs recently. Just finished the 6th or 7th in a row.
I keep hearing my great-great grandmother's sigh as she watched my great-grandmother Mirele (Mary) leave her to get on the boat to come to America. I keep seeing my great-great-great grandmother cooking latkes for her daughter and sons. I keep smelling the dirt of Ukraine, the soil of motherland Russia. I keep yearning to breathe in the scents of candles burning and bread breaking on Shabbes.
My ancestors seem to have found me, and they are not letting go. Their presence within me has allowed me to let go, relax, and know that I am protected within their loving arms.
I'm hungry for more stories, and will probably continue to read memoirs of the struggles of the Jewish people, even though I do not feel myself to be Jewish, I know these are important roots.
I have found this link on the Yad Vashem website that chronicles the years of World War II in Pinsk: http://www1.yadvashem.org/download/about_holocaust/studies/FatalENGPRINT.pdf
There are so many scattered pieces of stories swirling like the snow outside my window, and I must trace them all.
