Pieces of my Heart: A Collection of Memories that Make it Whole

“Gyumri Gang” might sum up my experience, but I want to share some vivid mental snapshots that will forever live in my memory.

I arrived at the Gyumri office and immediately felt the warmth of the cohort I would soon call friends. We went around introducing ourselves one by one, and then Khachik, our Gyumri coordinator, gave us a tour of the space. When we walked into the kitchen, I immediately recognized my cousin who I hadn’t seen in over 15 years. That same day, I learned we would both be volunteering at Alvan Tsaghik NGO in Gyumri, working together on the business side of the Tati Toon project. Side by side, we would tailor workshops and teach business literacy to women.

After spending our lives apart—me in America, her in Canada—this became a once-in-a-lifetime chance to live in the same neighborhood, work in the same office, and spend evenings together, just like our parents had once described Armenia: a place where relatives would gather and enjoy summer evenings together.

Another central part of my experience was dancing. It became the common thread running through many of my best memories. On my very first excursion to Saghmosavank, we formed a circle as a large Birthright group and, guided by Larisa, danced Shourtchbar and Yarkhushtaa. For the first time, I truly felt the weight and wonder of being in Armenia. In that dance, surrounded by mountains and history, I was no longer just visiting—I was home, held in unison with everyone around me.

Dance returned in a meaningful way on my birthday, about three weeks into my volunteering experience. That morning, I arrived at my worksite to find the summer camp students waiting for me with smiles and a song—they sang “Sona yar,” filling the space with warmth. For a few minutes, children and volunteers alike shared in a simple but unforgettable celebration.

Later that evening, the joy carried on as we gathered at a restaurant with live music. Surrounded by fellow volunteers, my host sister, and members of the Gyumri community, I felt a deep sense of belonging. Many nights afterward carried that same magic—dancing waltz by the singing water fountains, laughing as we turned public spaces into celebrations. Even our goodbyes were marked by dance. One memory that will stay with me forever was in Charles Aznavour Square, playing Aznavour’s music as we danced one last time as a group under the open sky.

One of the most meaningful moments of my stay came from my host mom. Near the end of my time in Gyumri, she told me softly, “You take pieces of my heart when you leave.” Those words have stayed with me. They reframed how I now see my own journey—pieces of my heart are scattered across the world, carried by the people and places that have shaped me.

To me, it proves how far love can stretch, and how in unison the Armenian community remains, no matter the distance. In the end, it is these connections that make us whole.