The Map of Salt and Stars

by Zeyn Joukhadar

Before Baba died, we hardly ever got calls from Syria, just emails. But Mama said in an emergency, you’ve got to hear a person’s voice.

How come people only ever have one language for grief?

Mama once said the city was a map of all the people who’d lived and died in it, and Baba said every map was really a story.

Panic weights my ankles, the thought that I’ll never hear Baba’s stories or his voice ever again. Why should a missing story leave a hole so big when it’s just a string of words?

“Stories are powerful,” he said, “but gather too many of the words of others in your heart, and they will drown out your own. Remember that.”