Just so we’re clear—the story below is fictional. All the characters and events in the story are purely imaginary. But the themes—those came from something personal. I’d just finished reading the first draft of my sister’s novel, and it floored me. Beautiful, heartbreaking. She wrote about the quiet weight of intergenerational trauma, about how families carry wounds forward, and about what it takes to heal.
This piece is my way of wrestling with those same ideas. I’ve long wondered how the past holds on to us and how a little compassion can sometimes ease its grip. For me, it isn’t really about pointing fingers. It’s about noticing the patterns and slowly finding a different rhythm, one that opens the door to a new kind of future.
Email me at noemidado @ gmail.com for the password.
