When we were kids growing up in Brisbane, my parents, brothers, and I used to record audio letters to our grandparents who lived in Canberra every so often.
I remember the four or five of us sat around the dining table in our house in Aspley. Passing a microphone around that was plugged into a radio/cassette player to record updates on our lives.
When I stayed with my grandparents in Perth in 1998 for my cousin Rhys' wedding, my Granddad put his headphones on me to play me part of a cassette. I heard myself talking to him and my Grandma at around six years old.
It was surreal.
The disconnect to how I sounded then, but knowing it was me, blew my mind.
When my grandparents passed away, I asked Mum to ensure she salvaged the cassettes. And she did.
But only one of the four cassette cases I found in my parents' house had a cassette inside.
They may still be there, but Dad and I didn't have a chance to properly go through Mum's sewing room, where I found them.
Pete took the empties and the one cassette home to digitise it for us. His bands still distribute their music on cassette.
While visiting my family in Perth this visit, Rhys told me they did the same growing up in Calgary, and he'd asked for those to be kept, too. I would love to hear them someday if I could.
Hearing yourself on tape as a child when you're an adult is a form of time travel.