I remember the day my Aunt Elaine gave me the keys to Aunt Stefy's condo like it was yesterday. On that keychain dangled a tarnished Gucci keychain , a Bahamas souvenir keychain, and only two gold keys- one for the storm door and the other for the green door.
The transfer of those keys and the ownership of the condo into my hands was sort of surreal. The keys, the condo, and everything in it were now mine in her absence. My trips out to Aunt Stefy's have now changed. Years after years of visits were now changing to sifting through and sorting through things Aunt Stefy Left behind. I had so many emotions as I set out on a journey of inheritance.

As I walked down the little sidewalk, normally anticipating her greeting, I realized that she would no longer be sitting there waiting for me. The little butterfly that had adhered to the door for decades greeted me instead. As soon as I turned the key, the smell of Aunt Stefy's house lingered as if her spirit was sitting there eagerly waiting to say, "Hey, NeNe! You want to try these Gucci chocolates.
The emotional weight started to pack on. Tears of sadness and joy became a bit overwhelming. It finally hit me. I am the keeper of Aunt Stefy's things. All of the things she left behind were left for me to steward. I stood in the condo, still for a moment, realizing that everything was just as it was when she left for the hospital.



Stacks and stacks of mail sat on top of her many Bibles, untouched bags of grocery deliveries, new Macy's orders that had not been opened, Gucci boxes, and tons of Levabuterol inhalers were laying everywhere. All of the things left behind were proof of life. A life that Aunt Stefy lived well and on her own terms despite health struggles in the end. It became clearer how delicate life is in that very moment. How we can be here one day and gone the next.


My visits became more frequent in the days to come. I had now embarked on a journey so tender. My inheritance journey. The time in my own life where I realized my place in my lineage is "the keeper of things" and manager of my Aunt Stefy's estate. I would be tasked to perserve family heirlooms, treasures, photos, and stories that tell the history of generations.
Knowing just how important and impactful family stewardship and inheritance is, I asked Aunt Stefy for guidance. Before I went to sleep one evening, I asked her how did she want me to tell her story and steward what she left behind.
In a dream, she sternly said, "Year of the Turtle". I woke up and deciphered the message as her saying to take it slow and take my time. Why? Because, she knew that I would find so many sentimental treasures that I had no idea she herself was holdng on to.



Processing the things she left behind is not just a physical act. It has become a ritual. Set days to go through drawers and closets. Flipping through photo albums and going through papers, piece by piece, has become a customary practice now. And, one that I am so grateful for and honored to be in the position to do so.

Inherting Aunt Stefy's place and all of the things in it has allowed me to think about how Black women live and their unique collections. How all of the stories, photos, notes, books, clothes could become part of a larger archive. It has made really see myself not only as a family archivist but a archivist whose work is centered around the homes of Black women.
This is work is so necessary, not just for me but for all of us. My research and collection begins with all of the things Aunt Stefy left behind.
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