Is there a home in the world for us?
We have our own snow in the Midwest.
Still, it is magical to stare wonderingly at the pristine beauty of a country, In the Middle of Snow, who relatives, generations before you, once called home.
That family once honored the past with stories of Finland. The great-grandparents who entered the US, through Ellis Island, settling in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, being comfortable with the familiarity of their homeland in a foreign country, told those memories. Settling, they built a family, in a village of Finlanders, joining the ranks of those who worked the iron ore mines, who supped on pasties and ran together, in unencumbered flesh, through the snow, to warm themselves in saunas. Together.
Today alone. Scattered snowflakes.
I always welcome to know more about my heritage, hence my search for Finnish blogs. I need connection. This circle of life i yearn for, feeds the purpose of answering who i am.
But who can answer the why questions? Why leave home, slowly abandon your language and culture, to come to a wild land that is not necessarily more welcoming. The answers remain as vague as the memories. I am destined to melt, never fully knowing. Remain fluid, never answering the question but providing a journey for my children.
Generations past, echoes that grow ever faint.