I came long ago from another century speaking another language feeling another life rhythm. And then after a few years of much stumbling and stuttering with my marshmallow tongue and smattering of cultural understanding, my children were born out of my body, tied thinly and ever so precariously to their forefathers from lands farfar away. There was no one there reminding me or teaching them of the sounds and rhythm of our ancestors. So, I raise my children as best I could, but conspicuously of my displacement in the clicking of my tongue and the beating of my heart. They are the flesh of my flesh; even though the words they use to explore and express their world will never be those I would have used before I Came Away.