The Forgotten Dictaphone

Hi my friend,

I found my old dictaphone today.
The one that I used when interviewing
artists, curators, and collectors…
back in the day.

But that wasn't 
all it held.

Because when 
my children were little,
I used it to record my mom
telling them made-up fairy tales,
as she was tucking their sleepy
bodies into bed.

I knew those stories were there…
But it took me three years
to listen to them.

I just couldn't do it any sooner.
It was too painful.
Too raw.

Until this moment.

The thing is…
I didn't wake up feeling this way.
It happened almost by accident.
Without any real effort.

I just came across a short reel -
nothing special, really,
but it reminded me of my mom.
Of how much I miss her.

So I looked through my phone…
and found the few videos I have of her.
But somehow on this day,
that didn't feel enough.

And in an instant, 
I remembered it…
the old dictaphone
in my drawer.

There it was,
forgotten beside a jar of loose buttons,
and some colourful thread.
Waiting patiently for me
to find it again.

And to my surprise,
it still worked.

I listened to the recordings -
my kids laughing, singing silly songs,
asking “What's your name?” 
again and again.

And between it all, 
my mom's voice - kind and patient, 
dreaming up tales of chameleons, 
whales, penguins, and three little mice 
stealing goodies for themselves.

So of course I cried.
Though not from sadness…
but from the joy of 
finding it.

Could I have listened 
to it sooner?

Probably.

But it would have felt forced -
something to get through,
not something that brought me joy.
Like it did today.

And…
I couldn't help but wonder,
if it was always meant to be
this way.

After all this time 
of not being able to face it, 
I'd done it anyway.
Just by following those 
seemingly random nudges.

Maybe that's what 
we sometimes overlook.

We think that we'll 
find our way through effort. 
By pushing ourselves tirelessly
towards what we want 
to reach. 

But the small
ordinary moments are
moving us forward 
just as well.

Not in leaps…
But as breadcrumbs,
showing us the way.

With love,
Elina