Who shapes you?

Author's note: When I first began writing this story, I had no idea that my paternal grandmother's recollection of her childhood and life were available online. I incidentally discovered a small piece of her own memoir upon asking my aunts for any writings from her masters degree that may be available online. My grandmother passed of lymphatic cancer when my father was thirteen, so any memory I have of her is built off fragments of my family's memories and old black-and-white photographs. 

Now, as someone writing her own memoir (of sorts) in this blog, amongst others, I realize how poignant telling a story in one's own voice is. Her initials, the same as mine ("A.M.," separated only by my middle initial) recounting moments in time that led to her journey to America, my father's birth, and so many things that shaped the people who shaped me. It gave me a glimpse into why my father often says we "are so alike." 

This blog post is dedicated to my grandmothers; for all the ways they have taught me, all the ways they have shaped my life, knowingly or not. I encourage everyone to write their stories; not necessarily to recount the same story from a different perspective, but to make permanent your voice. Thank you for reading my story, for listening to my voice. I hope from it you can find some solace in our similarities, or learn something as I did reading the same story I'd heard from a different perspective. 

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