Author: All The Threads

As we were about to leave my uncle’s house, almost devoid of anything of meaning a few weeks after he died, I noticed the mirror. That’s the thing about mirrors: you don’t really see them until there’s nothing for them to reflect. It was on the living room wall and was in dark brown, almost… Continue reading My uncle’s mirror

The spoon was my Mother’s. It is much smaller than those usually used, a perfect size for her tiny hand. The bowl has only half remaining and is stained dark brown by the many soups and stews it has stirred. The handle is worn smooth by my Mother’s hand. I use it whenever I cook… Continue reading A small wooden spoon

A received this from my friend when their spouse died by suicide. It has too many tricky many memories for her, but I will enjoy it, and remember the grace and generosity of the widow, and the hundreds of hours of gaming I had with both of them.

On my 50th birthday my Mum gave me a small box with a ribbon on it and a card that read as follows- “This is a very special gift, That you can never see. The reason it’s so special is, It’s just for you from me. Whenever you are happy, Or even feeling blue, You… Continue reading A box

A special ring; not glittery or huge but with a special stone found on a beach as the honeymooners walked. A stone found and made into a simple ring that has been passed down the family for 3 generations. I am the present wearer of this token of love. It was passed to me when… Continue reading A ring with a stone found on beach during honeymoon

My mum had a hard life and therefore had a lot of trust issues and by the end of her life her mental state was that she had cut everyone out apart from me. Still to this day I feel very honoured that I was the only person named in her will and therefore I… Continue reading All of their possessions including their house

I never knew my biological father. I was adopted when I was 2. This year after reading my files I found that he died in 2007. All I have of him is a picture

My car was my Aunty’s before she died 6 years ago. I was left with the car. I’ve always liked it, and it’s been helpful for work and things, but ultimately I’ve always thought “it’s just a car”. But then it was getting old, and we had to sell it, and it was really sad.… Continue reading A car

It was in a pale brown folder of about twenty-five pages, typed usinga typewriter, with handwritten corrections. It was all about changes, transformations, metamorphoses which the person writing, David was his name, had tracked across texts by a poet he loved. And it showed the changes David had undergone, his diversity and otherness, his generosity,… Continue reading A unique piece of writing

My mum’s Little Eeyore, Big Eeyore and Giant Eeyore. They used to keep us company and sit with my mum and brother and watch tv with us. Despite being stuffed toys they were very expressive, and through them I could communicate things I otherwise struggled to say. Big Eeyore is very old now and a… Continue reading Three Eeyores