Your stories belong here.
LITTLE THINGS. LASTING STORIES.
Crayon drawings, painted ballparks, paper gardens and two sample school reports. A recipe in familiar handwriting. The glove he saved up for. A photo keeps the object; your words keep its meaning.
Save a photo, name who made or owned it, and add any year or age you remember. An exact original date isn’t needed.
This fictional collection shows family-shared items and Avatar Wife’s private keepsakes. Uploading your own items happens in your real account.
Only meI painted the same pear three times and liked the last one best. For an hour I wasn't organising anything for anyone. Keeping this private feels like keeping a little corner of the afternoon for myself.
Family circleThis recipe came from my childhood kitchen. We finally copied it onto a fresh card, with the children's notes in the margins. Now the stains belong to two generations.
Family circleAt the end of the year, we talked about her favourite books and the projects she wanted to try next. I wanted to remember that mixture of pride and possibility. This sample report gives that story a place.
Family circleEvery room had a purpose, including a room almost entirely for books. I wanted to save more than a picture of a craft project. I wanted us to remember how carefully she had imagined a place for everyone.
Family circleThere were scraps of paper everywhere, but she knew exactly which pieces she still needed. I especially love the butterfly. It has the hopeful shape of something made without worrying about perfection.
Family circleI remember sitting beside him as we talked about the year, including the things that were still difficult. We celebrated his effort over ice cream. This sample report helps tell the story of that conversation.
Family circleThe paper curled a little while the paint dried, so we put it on the kitchen table before finding a safe spot for it. I love the tiny players and the big patch of blue sky above them.
Family circleI love how he made room for all four of us on the page. The crayon lines are uneven, but his idea of home is so clear. This is the sort of schoolwork I could never put in the recycling.
Family circleI remember the late afternoon light on that blanket. Nobody had finished the dishes, but everyone was exactly where I wanted them to be.
Only meA community show included one of my watercolours. I went back twice to look at it when nobody I knew was there. I still remember the surprise of seeing something I made framed and given its own little space.
Only meI copied the cookie recipe while my mother talked me through the steps. My handwriting slanted downhill, hers stayed beautifully straight. I remember feeling that she was trusting me with something much bigger than a recipe.