Food has a way of carrying us home. For me, that home begins in a sunlit kitchen where the scent of fresh bread mingled with simmering soup, wrapping itself around everything like a warm embrace. I can still hear the gentle clink of utensils, the soft hum of the oven, and above it all, my…
Category: Past generations
Nineteen- Fiftysix
In 1956, in the steady gentle rhythm of Helsinki life, my grandfather began each day in the little home he shared with my grandmother on Näkinkuja. I often find myself picturing those mornings so clearly, as though I can almost step into them. Their home was warm and snug, and already full of the familiar…
Roots & Wings
For those of us Finns who live overseas, identity is something tender. It is more than where we were born or where we live now. It lives quietly within us — in our language, our memories, and in that ache for something we can never fully leave behind. We may build our lives far from…
True Beauty
During my visit to the hospital to see my mum today, I shared the elevator with an elderly couple. They got off one floor before me, and as I watched the gentleman gently take the lady’s hand and lead her out of the lift, my whole world seemed to pause for a moment. I found…
Good Morning Twenty Twenty-Four
I find myself waking up, or perhaps more truthfully, trying to pull myself into a new year. It feels like a tug-of-war between the sweetness of dreamland, which keeps calling me back, and the quiet desire to get up and savour the very first chai of twenty twenty-four. The temptation to sink deeper into sleep…
Bless Your Heart
At the moment, our home feels like a linguistic smoothie, with accents from all over the world blending together under one roof. Our friends from Florida are staying with us for the month of November, and their presence has turned our home into a lively little orchestra of voices, tones, and rhythms. It is not…
Cardamom Spice
There is a place in my childhood memories sweeter than almost any other — my grandma’s kitchen. There was nowhere on earth I would rather have been than in my mummi’s warm and welcoming kitchen, learning to bake pulla, that beautiful sweet Finnish cardamom bread whose scent alone can carry me straight back to childhood….
Childhood Summer Cottage
Although Helsinki’s cobbled streets and majestic architecture formed the backdrop of my early life, my world was anchored in one small, precious place within that city. In the northeastern corner of Helsinki, where the pulse of the city softens and nature quietly takes over, lies the lovely neighbourhood of Itä-Pakila. It was there, in a…
Let me Tell you a Story
In the midst of this busy and noisy modern world, storytelling feels to me like a quiet place of rest. It is more than a way of remembering. It is a way of holding close the people, places, and moments that have shaped us, while keeping us connected to our family history, our sense of…
Childhood Home
Written by Jaana M. H. JokinenTold by my mother, Mirja AnneliSeptember 1949, Kallio, Helsinki, Finland Slowly but surely, the days were growing colder and darker. School had started again, and autumn had arrived. I have always been a summer person, so even as an eight-year-old, I was not at all pleased by the changing season….
Apples of Gold 