my story

Dear friend,

I was born three and a half months early — one pound, thirteen ounces — and I spent my first six months in an incubator. The oxygen that kept me alive took my sight. So I have never seen the world, not for one day.

But here's the thing nobody tells you about a life without sight: you don't experience less of the world. You experience it differently. The weight of a good bar of soap. The way lavender smells different in the morning than at night. The little snap a match makes the moment it catches. I've spent my whole life noticing the things most people rush past. That's what a "noticeable" is.

My hands do the work other people's eyes do. I roll my beeswax candles by hand and squeeze them so they hold — they come out looking a little braided, which I love. I cut soap by weight and feel. I knit while I talk on the phone. Every piece gets judged by touch and scent before it leaves my table, and my hands are very hard to please.

So why gift boxes? Because I want you to feel what I feel when someone thinks of me: noticed. When you open this box, you've been thought of — by me — even if nobody else thought of you that day. You got this gift, so you borrowed one of my evenings. Light the candle. That glow is the one part I've never had. It's yours.

If you'd like me to make something for you or your people, I would truly love that.

Neena xo

maker of noticeable things