seeing the humanity and joy in our everyday
‘one day she took the time to stitch trees and a mailbox with the abbreviation of our province, and with intention she tied a red ribbon with frayed edges on its hook, and then she took her time to mail it to our home for it to find its rightful spot on our mismatched tree.’ (Caylee)
Continue reading “THE STORIES OF THINGS: EPISODE 10 – A SPECIAL CHRISTMAS ORNAMENT”
‘… a black box with a simple white label on it which says: ‘letters from dad’. Nothing fancy…’ (Amanda Ghanbarpour)
Continue reading “THE STORIES OF THINGS: EPISODE 9 – NOTHING FANCY”
‘I can hold the brooch in my palms. I can carry on her legacy and lessons – the way she took care of the old garden; how to treat plants and people. I can remember her relentless resilience, and the way she took care of all of us.’ (Anett Teresia)
Continue reading “THE STORIES OF THINGS: EPISODE 8 – THE BROOCH”
‘The last texts we exchanged were about the pan; he asked if I’d perfected the technique, and I told him I had, that I had been having a hot chocolate a day since he gave it to me, and I couldn’t wait till we were together at Christmas so that I could make him one. ‘ (Sophie Caldecott)
Continue reading “THE STORIES OF THINGS: EPISODE 7 – A BLUE AND WHITE ENAMEL MILK PAN”
‘I really appreciate how my pen can make sense of my thoughts. Muddled midnight ramblings become coherent sentences with clearer direction once I touch my pen to paper. But it has to be this pen, the one that perfectly fits in the bump of my finger… the one that has my name, as it was when I was 10 years old, engraved on the end of it. The pen that holds a lifetime of dreams, and will play such an important role in manifesting those to come.’ (Tammy)
Continue reading “THE STORIES OF THINGS: EPISODE 6 – THE PEN”
‘Memories of m children’s early years spill out in layers: I catch a glimpse of her first bib, speckled with polka dots and tomato sauce spillages too persistent to clean; here’s the dungarees they all wore for their early steps, wobbling like jack-in-the-boxes, mouths open with excitement and concentration, one shiny dribble at the corner. And so they emerge, year by year, each milestone a bounty of feelings and anticipation.’
Continue reading “THE STORIES OF THINGS: EPISODE 5 – THE JUMPSUIT, THE BOOTIE AND THE HAT”
‘The train slowed down and the man told me this was his stop. I got up and we hugged goodbye. For the rest of the ride I held on to the roses as I let go of my numbness. ‘ Therese Bagshaw
Continue reading “THE STORIES OF THINGS: EPISODE 4 – ROSES FROM THE ROSARY”
‘As a child, I heard about the tall rock my grandmother used to live on, at the edge of the sea. I heard of the waves, crashing onto the shore, of their unmistakable sound, of the salt in the nostrils and the grilled fish for supper. ‘
Continue reading “THE STORIES OF THINGS: HOUSE ON A HIGH ROCK”
‘Holding inside her the secret pattern for the carpet, she would weave each thread gently in and gently out, through hard wired vertical, thick weft thread, stopping from time to time to align them. Sometimes the shed stick, the wooden stick separating threads, would drop, the tension in the thread would be lost, and words would pass, or would they retrieve their work peacefully and resolutely?’
“The past beats inside me like a second heart.” John Banville