Salt to the Sea

The Winter of Shadows

Dear Reader, if you’re stumbling upon these words, it’s no accident. I am Joana Vilkas, and though my story is painted with the frost of loss and the fog of war, it is also a journey of unyielding hope.

You may not know of the treacherous trek that tore through the heart of Europe during the winter of 1945, or of the thousands who fled from the relentless advance of the Red Army. But we are not so different, you and I.

We have both faced nights that stretch into endless dark, and the cold that seeps into the bones of our very souls. It was during those times, amidst the snow that blanketed the earth and muffled our steps, that I learned the resilience of the human spirit.

As a Lithuanian nurse, my hands were tools of healing amidst the carnage of war. I saw life flicker in the eyes of the wounded, and I was reminded that even in the bleakest of winters, warmth can be found in the gentle touch of empathy.

In your own winters, perhaps you too have found that solace can come from unexpected places. Each flake of snow that fell was a reminder of the individual stories around me, each unique and fragile, yet part of a greater whole.

We were a sea of displaced souls, moving as one. And like the snow, we blanketed the earth, seeking refuge, leaving behind the imprints of our existence, however fleeting they may be.

As you walk through your life, remember that you are also leaving imprints, marks of your passage that might be the warmth another soul needs.

The Crossing of Paths

War, in its monstrous form, has a way of erasing identities and blending destinies. On the road, I met people who were mere shadows of their former selves, their stories etched into the lines of their faces.

Among them were a boy with the eyes of an old man, a poet who had lost his words, and a soldier cloaked in mystery. Each carried a secret, an untold tale that pulsed beneath their skin like a second heartbeat.

In the company of strangers, I found an unlikely family. We shared no blood, but we were bound by the shared need to survive.

Through them, I learned that sometimes the family you find is as strong as the one you were born into. You, too, may find kinship in the most unexpected of companions, and it's these bonds that can carry you through the darkest of times.

There is a strange beauty in the way lives intertwine, how the tapestry of fate weaves us together. You may think yourself alone, but there are threads connecting you to others, threads that can guide you home.

Remember that while solitude can be a sanctuary, there is strength in unity, in the shared heartbeat of humanity.

The Burden of Secrets

Among the throngs of refugees and the cacophony of war, secrets weighed heavily. I, too, bore my own—a burden that gnawed at my conscience and a guilt that was a constant companion.

In the silence of the night, when the world was nothing but a whisper, those secrets would claw their way to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged. But secrets are like wounds.

They need air to heal. I learned that the act of revealing, of sharing the parts of ourselves we keep hidden, is a step toward liberation.

As you face your own shadows, know that bringing them into the light might be painful, but it is the first step toward healing. We are all made of light and dark, and it is the balance of both that makes us whole.

In revealing my truths, I found not judgment, but understanding. You may fear that your secrets will push others away, but in my experience, they often draw us closer.

The act of trusting someone with your vulnerabilities is a powerful connection, a bridge built on the foundation of shared humanity.

Waves of Change

The sea was a churning mass of gray, a beast that roared its might to the skies. To gaze upon it was to witness the raw power of nature, to feel insignificant in its presence.

In its vastness, I saw the reflection of our own journey, the ebbs and flows of hope and despair that marked our path. Standing at the edge of that great expanse, I understood that life is an ocean of endless possibilities.

We are all sailors on its tides, and though we cannot control the winds, we can adjust our sails. You, too, are navigating your own seas, and there will be storms and there will be calm, but you have the power to steer your course.

It is in the heart of the storm that we discover our true strength. In the waves that threatened to engulf us, I found a resilience I did not know I possessed.

And so will you. When life's tempests rage around you, remember that even the wildest seas eventually quiet, and the shores of peace await.

The Art of Letting Go

Loss is an inevitable companion in the dance of life. To love is to risk the pain of parting, and in the midst of war, partings were as common as the stars in the sky.

I lost more than I ever thought I could bear, and with each loss, a piece of my heart was torn away. Yet, it is through loss that we learn the art of letting go.

It is a difficult lesson, one that is often learned through tears and sorrow. But in letting go, we make room for new growth, for the seeds of new beginnings to take root.

You, too, have known loss, and it is in the shared understanding of this pain that we find solidarity. Letting go does not mean forgetting.

It means moving forward with the love and memories etched into your being, allowing them to shape who you become. It means honoring the past while stepping into the future.

As you face your own goodbyes, know that they are not the end, but a part of your journey, a verse in the song of your life.

The Mosaic of Memory

Memories are curious things. They can be as sharp as glass or as elusive as smoke.

In the aftermath, when the war had quieted to a somber whisper, memories were all that some of us had left. They were the scattered pieces of a life that once was, a mosaic that told the story of who we were.

I learned that memories could be a source of comfort, a reminder of the light that once shone through the darkness. They could also be a prison, chaining us to a past that no longer exists.

You, too, have your own mosaics, your own memories that you clutch close or try to flee from. They are the brushstrokes of your existence, the colors that paint the canvas of your days.

Embrace your memories, but do not let them confine you. Allow them to be the foundation upon which you build the future.

As you sift through the remnants of what was, remember that you are the artist of your life, and it is within your power to create a masterpiece from the pieces you hold.

The Endurance of Hope

Hope is a delicate flame that flickers in the heart. It can be smothered by the slightest breeze or kindled into a blazing fire.

In the darkest of days, when the world seemed void of warmth, hope was the ember that refused to die. It whispered promises of a dawn yet to come, a world reborn from the ashes of despair.

I learned that hope is not a passive wish, but an active pursuit. It is the determination to see beyond the present storm, to believe in the possibility of a brighter tomorrow.

In your own struggles, let hope be your compass, guiding you through the uncharted waters of your trials. Hope is the thread that weaves through the tapestry of life, connecting us to each other and to the dreams we dare to chase.

Nurture it, protect it, and let it lead you forward. For it is in hope that we find the strength to persevere, the courage to continue our story.

And now, as I step beyond the veil of Joana Vilkas, I invite you to discover the tapestry of lives woven together in Ruta Sepetys' masterpiece, "Salt to the Sea." It is a story that delves deeper into the souls of those I walked with, those who faced the unimaginable and yet found the will to keep moving.

It's a narrative that cannot be captured in a single letter, one that will immerse you in the tides of history, love, loss, and the endurance of the human spirit. In its pages, you may find reflections of your own journey and the inspiration to navigate your life with hope as your beacon.

May it touch your heart as deeply as it has touched mine.