For my 15th birthday, my mother’s sister (Tänte Ilse) gave me a collection of some favorite poetry handwritten into a yellow, leather bound journal. Some poems are in English, others in German (Tänte Ilse’s native language). This journal is one of my most treasured possessions because there is so much love in each carefully printed word.
A German poem called, “Daheim” is one of my favorites. Daheim is a tricky word to translate, but essentially, it means “home” as in homeland, or the place that lives in your heart as home.
Carefully taped on the page opposite this poem is a folded slip of paper with a pressed flower and one simple phrase, “Daheim bin ich gewesen.” (I’ve been at home.) Tänte Ilse… Continue reading