“Harakas or magpie in English, is a loud, black-and-white bird with a blue tail. It’s also a nickname for someone who hoards things (preferably shiny and beautiful), often of little value, bringing them back to their nest. If we were to diagnose the magpie in today’s society, it would be a kleptomaniac girl—a metaphor for the modern woman who keeps collecting things she doesn’t really need to fill the void in her heart, though it never will.

Harakas was my father’s nickname for my mother. Our home resembled a warehouse, where you could find something for any occasion. The fridge was always overflowing with groceries, though half would spoil untouched. The closets were full to the brim with clothes, shoes, and accessories, yet she never found anything to wear. The garage and attic were filled with old toys, relics of my childhood she couldn’t part with, as if letting them go would mean losing the memories they safeguarded. I even found items with tags still attached—forgotten remnants of impulsive desires.

When I asked her, “Mommy, why do we need so much of everything?”, she explained how, growing up in Estonia during the Soviet Union, she had nothing, so now she needed everything. She had worked too hard to gather her precious treasures; no one could take them from her—not ever.

I can’t help but wonder: has this generational trauma, this deep-seated fear of scarcity, turned us into kleptomaniacs of our own souls? Instead of stealing from others, we rob ourselves, unable to control our buying urges. Seeking solace in things that can never heal us, we grow poorer not only in wealth but in spirit. As the high fades the moment the chase ends, our overflowing cup is once again drained by sadness and guilt.

I guess that’s why I’m also this way.” – Jacqueline Maxine Jürgens