My childhood stuffed animals (ink & watercolor)

I’m in the midst of packing this week before a move. This ironically involves a certain amount of unpacking from cupboards and drawers and sorting before the packing into boxes. And then the move. And then the unpacking to put things away. Really though, that involves repacking on new shelves and in new spaces. So much packing!

I have come across all sorts of treasures during this period.

I have touched all my fabric and winnowed what no longer appeals and have ideas of things to do with some of what I have.

I have looked at many, many recipes reminding me of so much good food yet to be made and enjoyed.

I’ve gone through books. Books, books, books. So many topics.

I came across baby sweaters I made for the kiddos. I made them elaborate because I could.

And I found my photos, in so many nooks and crannies. So many photos. Photos of my kids. Photos of my Moroccan cats. Photos from Japan. My grandmothers’ photos (yes, both of theirs). And photos from my childhood.

I see that little person and recognize me but don’t really remember what I was like. It’s a funny thing how memories work. Children can be pretty intense about things but later on don’t remember much.

When I was seven, my family spent the summer in London. One particular part about the trip I’ve always remembered. I had a stuffed animal, my yellow rabbit, who was extremely well-loved. Its fur was well plucked and the wire had been pulled from its ears. According to some family members, it was time for a replacement.

I remember going to toy sections in various stores in London with my grandmother and eventually we came away with a large bright pink mouse. It was not my yellow bunny though. It was so not my bunny. There are photos of me with the pink mouse. I don’t know where the rabbit was during the trip.

For years I’ve tried remembering what my rabbit looked like but couldn’t. While sorting this week, though, I was really pleased to find a photo of my rabbit and mouse together.

What to do but to draw a sketch of the two? Photos are nice, but drawing and writing about memories make the important ones stick. And now if the one photo from 1971 gets lost, I have the memory and the drawing.

Have you done this? Do you have any stories from the past or your childhood that you’ve recaptured in words or drawings? What’s your story?

And as a reminder for saving some of today’s memories, have you backed up your computer recently?