The Gypsy and
the Pilgrim
4/3/2012
One
summer
I
spoke
With
my Grandmother
And
she told me stories
Of
her time
As
a child
With
her sister
And
father,
Who
was an Italian Gypsy.
All
I really recall
Where
stories of a house
In
the grass,
And
playing with her sister,
Who
she no longer knows,
Because
one day
Her
father disappeared,
Leaving
her
And
her sister
Behind.
But
my Grandma also told me
About
her adopted family,
And
stories of their history.
Of
how her adopted Grandmother
Met
her adopted Grandfather
But
they were both travelers
Going
their separate ways.
They
were not meant to be
Although
they fell in love.
So
when their children,
My
great-grandmother
And
great-grandfather,
Met
by happen stance,
They
fell in love
And
righted the balance.
Then
they adopted my Grandmother
Who
birthed my father,
Who
made me.
Though
my Grandmother identifies
As
an Italian Gypsy,
She
was raised by a family
Who
descended from Pilgrims.
Two
vastly different peoples
But
two similar ways.
Two
families of travelers,
Two
people who had no home.
But
who am I?
A
Gypsy or a Pilgrim?
Do
I have Gypsy soul or not?
The
answer?
Both…
I
am Both.
I
have a Gypsy soul
As
well as
A
European frame of mind.
I
am a Gypsy and a Pilgrim.
I love this. So much.
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