I like to tell stories.
I always have.
I like to roll around in the dirt of them, smell the earth, hear once again the calls of crows (or are they ravens? It's always the same question), and visit again a time and place and moment when a life changed. It may have changed for me, or for someone I loved, or for someone I just met, but it was a blink of an eye when suddenly everything was new that would be remembered but likely never lived again in just that way.
That moment remembered is where
story begins its journey.
When some of us think of memoir, some of us start crying. Not that story again.
But in telling a story, I learn where things started, how I or they or we all grew, what I felt then and
what I learned on the journey
that was a string of seemingly unrelated moments
Even when told again.
Especially when told again.
And a glimpse of
wisdom is discovered in what was
simply a journey of moments strung together.