I want paper records.
I want faded photos, sepia coloured and curling at the edges -
with long gone relatives.
I want tickets that meant something to someone, kept because they commemorated a special event.
I want faded flowers -
an old bouquet from an admirer or swain of decades ago. Someone who my gran or great gran cared for and cared enough to keep the memories.
I want memories you can touch and smell, the faded beauty of generations past.
I want to weave stories around the things left to us, fantastic stories to honour the paper history of our ancestors.
A computer screen of digital images doesn't do it for me.
I want to show my grandchildren letters wrapped up in faded silks.
I want to talk about my grandparents or their parents and show pictures of them.
I want to talk about the scandals as well as the romance.
For after all, where we came from made us who we are.