A memoir, in your own voice, for people not yet born.
Most of what we know about our grandparents is the photograph and a sentence. Most of what they knew about themselves is gone.
Aftr changes that. Record voice memos when you feel like it: five minutes on a Sunday, an hour after a long week. We weave them into a permanent narrative, in your own words, released to your family after you're gone.
The summer Dad built the bach
The summer the bach went up, my father was forty-two and had never built anything more ambitious than a letterbox. Mum drove the four of us up on a Friday, the boot full of nails the wrong length and a borrowed circular saw he'd watched a man use, once, on a construction site in Pakuranga…
By the third weekend, the framing was up and the rain came in sideways. We slept in the tent with the saw under a tarp.