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The wildest, kindest, most nostalgic and mind-blowing gift arrived this evening. And it happened because of a convergence of memories, saved letters and social media . (A thread)
Doorbells don’t ring much anymore, thanks to COVID. So imagine my surprise when the lovely @vicmo arrived on the stoop with a package and a quizzical look. “This is weird but... do you know an Irma?”
Indeed I did. More than 40 years ago, Irma babysat my brother and me in the Netherlands
. After we emigrated to Calgary
, she stayed in contact with my mum and, in 1981, she came to stay.
. After we emigrated to Calgary, she stayed in contact with my mum and, in 1981, she came to stay.
Before this package, I would have recalled her as that cool teenager I could look up to. And I remembered her being fascinated by my hamster, Hammy. 
The story from her perspective is so, so much better.
The story from her perspective is so, so much better.
Inside the box were an envelope, two wrapped packages and some recipes
. The letter was addressed to me and my bro and asked us to read it together before unwrapping my gifts.
. The letter was addressed to me and my bro and asked us to read it together before unwrapping my gifts.
Of course, I did neither. 
I tore open the wrapping paper. Inside was a photo book beyond my wildest dreams. Pictures of me as a baby and toddler. Photos of letters from my mum to her, planning her stay. Cards and correspondence in handwriting I haven’t seen for years.
I tore open the wrapping paper. Inside was a photo book beyond my wildest dreams. Pictures of me as a baby and toddler. Photos of letters from my mum to her, planning her stay. Cards and correspondence in handwriting I haven’t seen for years.
And pictures - hundreds of pictures - of us as new Canadian kids in early 80s Calgary. Taken by this young woman, during her 7-month stay. Our green bungalow. My Halloween costume 
from the year I was 5. Us at a neighbours’ rural property. Most I had never seen before.
from the year I was 5. Us at a neighbours’ rural property. Most I had never seen before.
She kept them all and, in the book, captured the story of her time in Calgary: the books she read us (yes, I do remember
!), the places we went, the minutia of life for a family of four. All captioned with her memories.
!), the places we went, the minutia of life for a family of four. All captioned with her memories.
She also included pictures of her return to Holland and a few more photos of cards and letters exchanged after 
. The last from December 1983.
. The last from December 1983.
It’s an amazing collection and I was blown away. She must have spent hours - weeks! - preparing it. The last pages, though, and her five page, hand-written letter were even more fascinating. And precious.
It seems Irma got curious some time ago and Googled our last name. An obituary led to my married name and, from there, my Twitter account and a post about our 39th Canada-versary. A surprise idea - to celebrate 40 years - was born and she needed to arrange for delivery. 
She sent emails that landed after a job change and went unanswered for months. She contacted cousins - in Canada and Holland. Phoned a long-disconnected Dutch auntie. Heard perspectives I never knew. All in an effort to find a current address.
An intermediary willing to cautiously trust and the magic of the internet played a role but the real story here is one of jaw-dropping persistence.
She remembered us as cute, happy little kids and created this stunning glimpse into our early lives with our parents.
She remembered us as cute, happy little kids and created this stunning glimpse into our early lives with our parents.
So much has happened since October 1981. Loss. Disconnections. Education. Marriages. Careers. Our own children. Lots of baking.
The captions and messages in her book and letter are filled with love and support and pride.
The captions and messages in her book and letter are filled with love and support and pride.
So I’ve just met up with my bro and my beloved SIL to catch-up to Irma’s instructions. And I’ve sent her an email that’s far too short to express my gratitude. I don’t know what’s next and I have no expectations.
3 lessons: 1. Moments that recede can come flooding back in a flash (or via international courier).
2. Telling people you remember that you do can be a profound kindness.
3. Social media can be so much more than a festering heap.
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2. Telling people you remember that you do can be a profound kindness.
3. Social media can be so much more than a festering heap.
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A half day later and I still haven’t absorbed it all. The book and letter will take much re-visiting.
Lesson 4: Memories are so deeply individual. Incredible to see my own pre-memory times reflected through someone else’s eyes.
Lesson 4: Memories are so deeply individual. Incredible to see my own pre-memory times reflected through someone else’s eyes.
