Threads of Memory

There’s something sacred about learning from the older generation — the way their hands move with years of practice, the way their voices carry stories, even when their memories begin to fade.

I’ve been staying with my aunt and uncle lately, and it’s been a mix of emotions. My aunty has dementia, and while that comes with challenges, there are still these wholesome, quiet moments where we really connect. One of those moments happened over something as simple as sewing.

I’ve been working on handmade bags that I plan to sell under my brand, Penny & Pearl. The idea is there, the heart is in it, but I needed help with the execution. I asked my mum, who helped me part of the way, but I knew I needed a little more guidance.

So I brought my project to my aunt.

My aunty has always been talented with sewing and crafts. It’s something that runs in our blood — this creativity, this need to make things with our hands. I showed her my bag, and even though her memory isn’t what it once was, I watched as her mind calculated and devised a plan. She knew what to do. She showed me step by step, even brought me into her sewing room, sat at her sewing machine to walk me through it. It was one of those rare moments — the kind you tuck away in your heart. A small, beautiful exchange of knowledge. A glimpse of who she’s always been.

Dementia might steal parts of the present, but it can’t take away what’s deeply rooted in the soul. And for my aunty, that’s her love for creating.

This experience reminded me of how important it is to slow down, to sit with our elders, and to listen — not just with our ears, but with our eyes and hearts too. There is wisdom in their hands, more importantly, in their way of being. 

I’m so grateful for this moment. It wasn’t just about making bags. It was about shared creativity, connection, and remembering who we are — and who we come from.