The Heirlooms We Don’t Inherit
Words by Mysha Manaal Taj
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The Heirlooms We Don’t Inherit
A personal portrait on partial belonging, tender remembering, and the unspoken ways culture lives on.
Some inherit gold.
Others inherit grief.
I inherited a language I cannot read and a longing I cannot name.
There are relics in my life that arrive not as objects, but as atmospheres folded into bangles no longer worn, pressed between the pages of books I cannot decipher, etched into the curve of a sher recited too quickly for me to follow. They belong to me and yet remain out of reach just like light on a surface I can’t quite touch.
This is the story of the heirlooms that weren’t passed down, not out of malice, but momentum.
The love we inherit. The language we lose.