I’ve been thinking about how I remember things. The things that represent ‘what- have- beens’. A while back I spoke about Old-Wisdom and how there is an old kind of love that is unswerving and dedicated to the last, stalwart and unflinching. Today I want to talk about another thing I’ve learnt from my Grandma, perhaps learnt is the wrong word, more a sense of absorbing.
My Grandma keeps things….things is perhaps an understatement- everything would be more apt. Her house is an old-curiosity shop of treasures from her life. It strickens her if anyone attempts to clear away some of the clutter (even if said clutter has been untouched for a decade).
I understand why, I feel the same. We retain objects as keepsakes; our sentries against lapsed time. How the holding of an object can be a time-portal to that long since gone moment and how we can build so much into the tiny-compressed molecules of a thing. How we display and curate these objects as the pin-points of our lives.
Our reckoning of our significant moments.
This is not going to be a wordy post but more of a photographic portrait of some of my treasures and how I remember the parts of me and past events that shape my life.
Tell me…what are your treasures? Why are they so important to you?