This lampshade was given to me as a birthday present from my boyfriend. It always reminds me of one late night when the two of us were up watching an episode of New Girl in my room. We didn’t watch it often but when we did we would watch several episodes in a row.

I learned the next day from my roommate that we had been laughing so often and so loud that, on the other side of the wall, they thought we were losing our minds! At the time I didn’t even realize just how much fun we were having; we weren’t doing anything crazy or new, just relaxing at home together.

This lampshade reminds me of that night as, to our surprise, we discovered that the female lead in the show has the same one on her bedside table! We now live in different cities but whenever I look at the lamp I am always transported back to that cozy night filled with laughter together.

Toronto, ON

Toronto Harbour, on a boat at sunset on June 3, 2011 – our gay wedding. This song was playing as the wedding party walked down the aisle and my PFLAG [Parents Families & Friends Of Lesbians & Gays]  mom gave me away. I am emotional every time I hear this and am instantly taken back to this moment bursting with pride and happiness.

Montreal, QC/Toronto, ON

The summer after my high school graduation, my mom made me a quilt. One could call it a ‘memory quilt.’ Not only would it serve me well in the cold Toronto winters, but it also sparked fond childhood memories at times when I deeply needed the comfort of home. A patchwork of t-shirts from volleyball tournaments, band concerts, sleep-away camp, sports days, family trips, and so on – this kept me warm and smiling for all of my university years. The quilt is a memory of so many wonderful childhood experiences, friends, family and places, but more importantly, the quilt (and all quilts, in fact) reminds me of my amazing mom! The quilt is a symbol of how loving, generous, supportive and talented my mom is. I smile every time I look at it and think of her.

Houston, Texas

This is the crucifix that was placed on top of my father’s casket during his funeral. My mother gave it to me to remember my father. It tears me apart because the crucifix shows death. I’m torn because I don’t like to think of my father as dead. While my father died in 2009, I still feel his presence everyday. He was my hero. He was an impressive man who taught me how to live out loud. He taught me to be daring. He taught me to help others. He was/is amazing. So I guess the crucifix makes sense in that although it depicts Christ’s death, as Christians we still believe Christ is alive. That’s how I feel about my father. Though he is physically dead, I feel his spiritual presence constantly.

Vancouver, BC

Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I frequently visited the Pacific Ocean, usually with my grandmother and siblings. One of our favourite pastimes while on the beach was to search for “glass balls,” -fishing floats that made their way from Japan. They come in all shapes and sizes, and were translucent blue in colour. In all my years scouring the beach, I have never found one, although I’ve seen many in seaside trinket shops.

Fast forward to my early 20s. My boyfriend and I were on a camping trip to a place called Cape Alava, the northernmost tip of the “lower 48” United States, located in Washington State. It was my boyfriend’s first time to the Pacific Ocean. We arrived at our camping spot in the pitch dark during a driving rain storm. The morning dawned without a cloud in the sky. We headed through a short trail that led to the beach, and it was spectacular. There, sitting on a log, I shared the story of the glass ball hunt with my boyfriend. When I began describing what these glass balls look like, he reached down beside a piece of driftwood and said “You mean like this?” And there in his hand lay a little glass ball. I was speechless, and knew right away I had met my man. Thirty four years later, we’re still going strong.