What Did You Take With You? - The Memory Treasure Hunt - La Gazette #16

Purakanui beach - Catlins 2024

Not everything we take with us fits in a suitcase.

Hello friend,

What Did You Take With You?

When you left your childhood home—whether at 18 or 48—what did you take?

Not the practical things. Not the kettle or the towels.

But the emotional artifacts.

The ones that held something sacred, even if you couldn’t name it.

Maybe it was a small painting from the hallway.

A framed print above the piano.

A sketch your mother made.

Or a postcard tucked into the corner of a mirror.

Maybe you didn’t take it.

Maybe you left it behind.

And now, years later, you think about it with a kind of bittersweet ache.

You didn’t know then how much it meant. But you do now.

That’s the thing about memory—it’s slow to reveal its treasures.

It waits until you’re ready to feel them.

Whangarei 2024

This week, I invite you to go on a memory treasure hunt.

Not in your attic, but in your mind.

• What piece of art lived in your childhood home?

• What did it make you feel?

• If you could hold it again, what would you say to it?

Art has always been more than decoration.

It’s emotional architecture.

It holds the light, the scent, the silence of a moment long gone.

And sometimes, it’s the only thing that remembers you back.

Thank you for reading.

Have a lovely weekend.

Kindly,

Marion V-W