Peristeri , Athens Greece. May 20, 2026
I will tell you how it happened for me. I was an immigrant. Yes, the kind that goes a little undetected because I’m not obvious, I suppose it is because I look a little like you. You welcomed me with open arms, let me fumble with your language, asked me questions and were both patient and frustrated with my different ways. I had no idea in the beginning what you were saying and then slowly with time, my ears adjusted and I began to understand.
It all started with a dropped piece of paper. On it was written an address. I could have left it there on the ground of the station platform. But no, that is not what happened. From that moment forward, was the rumbling of the train always at the back of my mind?
Maybe, but life is full of maybes.
Then I found this park.
I was always with the children there. I lifted and carried and moved them along as gently as possible. The sounds in the park, the green place that became my soft landing, was part of this new home. Another woman came. We were so often there together. She knew, as did I, we were each other's lifeline in many ways.
The cycle repeats, and as I move again through the pathways here, I see them, the women, the children, the trees and their branches.
It all started with a dropped piece of paper. On it was written an address. I could have left it there on the ground of the station platform. But no, that is not what happened. From that moment forward, was the rumbling of the train always at the back of my mind?
Maybe, but life is full of maybes.
Then I found this park.
I was always with the children there. I lifted and carried and moved them along as gently as possible. The sounds in the park, the green place that became my soft landing, was part of this new home. Another woman came. We were so often there together. She knew, as did I, we were each other's lifeline in many ways.
The cycle repeats, and as I move again through the pathways here, I see them, the women, the children, the trees and their branches.
