I rescued a tiny succulent from a crack in the concrete on a street in Parramatta several years ago. I brought it home, found it a pot, and it keeps growing towards the light. Its curious leaves hold so many happy memories from that weekend – of strolling the streets and op-shops with a kindred spirit, sharing a house with friends who are dear to my heart, participating in a wonderfully inspiring and interesting gastronomy conference, connecting with a beautiful man, eating, drinking, talking, singing, walking and savouring. Every day this little plant gives me a wave and sends some happy memories my way.
With the threat of moving house looming large over my head, I cleaned another shelf this evening. Now I have a neat little box of papers and notebooks a quarter the size it was, ready to trot off to the new place. In amongst the sorting I have come across beautiful little memories – my great Aunt Amie’s memorial booklet, a heartfelt card from a dear friend, a little letter from an ex-student, and all kinds of odd notes to self. There is much more to sort, and thus many more little forgotten treasures to find.