Each person I photographed wrote about their memory boxes. I have posted some of the writing below. I am grateful to everyone for sharing their thoughts with us.

BILL: My father left us when we were just children. He went from our Macedonian village in Greece to France where he worked as a farm labourer. This is his passport. Later, in 1950, he emigrated to Canada. He brought us over in 1951. I was married and had two babies. My mother, younger brother and sister came too. It should have been a good thing, but it wasn’t. It was tough. He wasn’t used to having a family and we weren’t used to having a father. When I look at his passport I wonder what would have happened, what my life would have been like, if he hadn’t emigrated. My memories are in this old suitcase.

LEA: In this photo you will see sample jars filled with sand, shells, pop bottle caps, etc from holidays I have taken. What you are really seeing are the objects that represent the thoughts that have been inside me since I came into the world. They have been filed away by my Soul like sample jars in a little tin box inside my body. These samples jars are units of energy. They are my truth. I believe I have known them before. I play a new flow of attention over them and give them life again. I participate in the art of full beingness by going out and repeating the gathering up of these items. These are my memories of wonderful times spent with my family.

DOREEN: My Father died of a broken heart. He passed away exactly two months to the day of my mother's death. I was left to pack up the house and sort out the memories. It was easy to choose mementoes from my mother, but what to keep from my dad? When I came upon his pipe collection, I was taken back to the childhood sweet tobacco scent that filled the living room when he tucked into his pipe. Funny, I have never supported smoking of cigarettes or cigars...but the smell of a pipe is another story altogether. I miss them both very much and memories such as these keep them close.

ANDREW: This bible has been in my family for a many generations. Since the early 1800’s. It has fascinated me ever since I was a child. I would sit it down on my lap, opening its covers, unlocking inside the memories of long passed family, a brief record of their lives. Leaves, feathers, newspaper clippings, postcards, stamps, and more. Once such keepsake cherished by me is the fine blonde hair of my grandmother when she was a little girl. It was carefully braided and placed in the center of the bible. Almost like a bookmark.