This door is beckoning me to enter. It is a door which leads to a past I’ve never known. Inside this door are pieces of myself which have been floating in the ether waiting for me to find them and place them together with the rest of the puzzle. I find it unlocked and can see flickering light inside beyond the stained glass.

I turn the knob and step into a polished wooden entryway. Beyond, there is a fireplace, with flames dancing merrily and casting a warm shimmering glow over the room. The room is filled with old couches  and chairs upholstered with maroon velvet, rich glowing wood tables filled with pictures and shining crystal. I step into the room and the first thing I notice are the people sitting there on the couches and chairs with their backs toward my part of the room, facing the fire. Over the mantle hangs a portrait that I soon recognize to be my great grandparents, whom I never met.

The room feels warm and welcoming. I smell cinnamon in the air and a feeling washes over me, almost a sense of coming home. A woman turns in her seat and looks at me. It is my grandmother, who has passed from this life long ago. She smiles and tells me to come and sit. As I enter the seating area, I see that sitting with her are her sisters, brothers, parents, my own mother, and other people whom I do not know. They all smile and welcome me to join them.

My grandmother stands to hug me and the sensation is like being wrapped in the softest, coziest blanket you have ever felt. Her smile reaches her eyes as it always did and they radiated the loving spirit of her. She is so beautiful. Next my mother comes to embrace me and it’s hard to describe the feeling as there is nothing like a mother’s hug. We sit and everyone introduces themselves. My great grandfather gives a small smile and asks if I would like to hear a story. Of course I eagerly say yes.

He tells me the story of how he was raised in an orphanage in his home country and made his way here to America as a very young man, where he met his wife and worked in the coal mines of Pennsylvania. They had six children together and while it was a hard life, it was a good life. There wasn’t much in the way of money or material things, but there was a lot of love. It was their desire to have their children grow up, remain close, and carry on family traditions which would keep their heritage alive.

Then, he asked me to stand up and really look around the room, to examine what I saw on the tables and walls. There were plates filled with some of the deserts which I remembered my grandmother making when I was a little girl. There was poppy seed roll, the thing she used to make with the lekwar paste, and other things which I had no idea what they were. He told me to grab a few and enjoy them as I walked the room. Oh, the taste…the memories. I looked at bubba and she smiled as she told me that she always did love to see how much I enjoyed her treats.

I continued around the room and saw catholic artifacts on the walls, pictures of Mary and various saints. There was a small altar set up with candles and incense burning in front of the crucifix which was sitting there with a large framed picture of Jesus in the back. One of the ones which has the halo of light around his head. There were also prayer cards and rosary beads sprinkled around the room on the various tables. At one point, my great grandmother asked me to pick up one of the sets of rosary beads, telling me that they had belonged to her grandmother and now were mine. They were beautiful, made of a clear but luminous rich amber color. When I picked them up, I could feel a tingle in my hands which reached all the way into my heart. I thanked and hugged her. This was special.

I continue around the room. There are old photographs around the room of a place which feels familiar but that I’ve never been. There are mountains, real mountains and ancient looking buildings. Instinctively I know that these pictures are of the homelands of austria/hungary/czech republic/slovakia. It is amazing how familiar it all feels to me. I am beckoned back to the couch.

They tell me how important it is to know where you come from because the memories are held inside of you and make up who you are. They also tell me to try to hold on to the old values of family, community, love, and even mystery. The ways of the new generations will not last….great grandfather said. He was glad to see that I had never fully embraced the new ways and held a more traditional sense of what life was really all about. We all hugged one another and then it felt like it was time for me to go. As I was headed toward the door, music began playing…it sounded like…it was polka! Bubba called me back to her for a dance and when I looked down, I was wearing her black dress with red flowers and her shiny red shoes just as when I was a little girl. We all danced and twirled around the room merrily until the song ended. Then it really was time for me to go. Until we meet again…they said.

 

Written by Tracy A Moore

(C) 2011 All rights reserved.

read more of her work and about her adventures here on her blog.