We are bound together, the women of my tree and me, bound by blood and time and history. Bound by the sacrifices, the struggles, the pleasures, the moments of love and hate and lust and longing, which have made up our everyday lives.
I like to think of them around me, surrounding me, looking down on me – on us – looking down on the lives of the women of their blood.
So many have been lost, their names and connections long forgotten, their histories slowly erased from family tales overtaken by the narratives of their men. The only traces left behind are the women of this time and place, both a world away from their own.
While it pains me that I do not know them, will never know of them, I take comfort from having them within me.
Their lives have led me to this time, this body, this woman I am today.