My mother was born in Germany. 1948.
A displaced persons camp in Berlin. A nicer way of saying refugee camp. A place where the ones who survived were sent to wait—to rebuild, to start again, to carry on.
They say a woman is born with all the eggs she will ever have.
This means that in the womb of my grandmother, Zena, the tiny fetus of my mother already carried the eggs that would become me and my sisters.
I was unborn in a displaced persons camp in Berlin.
I existed before I existed.
A whisper in my mother’s body, in my grandmother’s grief, in the quiet space between survival and whatever came next.
Jan Lauren Greenfield is a writer, filmmaker, and facilitator whose work blends humor, heart, and stories of belonging across generations. She holds a B.A. in American Literature from Middlebury College and a master’s degree from Pratt Institute. Her work has been supported by the Arts Council of Rockland and the Natan Fund. She lives and works in the lower Hudson Valley.