Words that Never Leave You: “My mother was my first country.”
Part Fifty in an ongoing series from Hollie's book "Words That Never Leave You: Fifty Pearls of Wisdom and Reflection from Survivors Across the World."
In my old Manhattan apartment, a gray-bearded man and a big smile moved in next door – the top floor of a dusty, pre-war walkup in the chaos of Hell’s Kitchen. He spoke many languages and prayed in all sorts of ways in the hallway as sunlight poured through the window cracks. After many months, I finally plucked the courage to ask my new neighbor where he hailed.
“My mother was my first country,” he answered with a respectful clasp of the hands.
Our first home. The human who gave each of us our first life.
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