My grandpa, Papa Pat, always seems to have a stash of mints. Maybe he’s dropping my sisters off, or meeting us for an activity, or just coming to visit. He gives me a hug and then extends his hand, a minty lifesaver tucked in his palm, the wrapper crunches as he shakes my hand, letting the mint fall into my hand. He then looks up and smiles at me. “I’m good, thank you for the offer though,” I usually say.“Just take it,” his eyes speak back to me in hopes of convincing me.Occasionally I will eat it right away, enjoying the sweet taste that pools into your mouth and the small sting of the mintyness in your nose as you breathe out, but often I will put it in my pocket and forget about it, even though I don’t always accept it, it reminds me of how sweet he is. Not only is he sweet but he is passionate. When me and my family moved to Ireland for 6 months, he was excited because he has been researching our Irish roots that connect us to our ancestors. People who immigrated to the US, closer to the American Dream, at some point, to leave hardships in Ireland. People, like any immigrants, needed a refresher. Kind of like a mint. Migration stories are different for everyone, whether it is moving to somewhere warmer or  people leaving war-torn areas. It is a sign of people taking a step of courage, so that they can live how they want to. Live with a sense of belonging. Live like a minty lifesaver has been popped into their mouth, giving them a boost of rejuvenation.

– CW

Relationship:  Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more