I write to trace the shape of what was and make meaning through the felt sense of what still lingers. Writing, for me, is not just memory work, it is reverent inquiry. I listen for language that lives in the body, the quiet breath between images, the stories held in silence as much as sound.

Writing this piece invited me to walk again through the history of my Ukrainian family, my Baba’s essence, downtown Edmonton at Christmas, and the layered reality of belonging to a lineage shaped by both resilience and unknowing. I wrote to honour those early rituals of care and celebration and to remember the colonial history that made our presence on this land possible.

The story is woven from family memory, inherited knowledge, and reflective research. Writing this piece helped me gain a deeper understanding of who I am and where I come from. It reminded me that joy and grief are braided, especially during holidays. Writing is a practice aligned with a devotion to discovery.

“These scenes were more than just decorations; they were stories woven in light and motion, igniting a sense of magic that stayed with me long after we left.”

This sentence reminded me that our histories too are woven. They are threads of memory and emotion flickering between light and shadow. When we meet our stories through presence and a new perspective they begin to shift. And in that shift, something sacred is revealed.