In my forty years, I’ve managed to accumulate quite a few stories of my own. Stories of heartache and of triumph. Some funny, some sad, and some that are, to be perfectly honest, probably a bit boring. I’ll try to avoid re-telling those!
Stories of surviving cancer, of meeting the man of my dreams, of dealing with infertility, of finding our children on the other side of the globe.
As each of these stories has unfolded, they have reminded me that the journeys of life can do a lot. They can break us or strengthen us. Sometimes they change our trajectory, while other occasions confirm and send us further on our current path. But in each instance, we have the chance to learn, to grow, and to become more in tune with our true self. It’s about becoming.
And as I think of my stories and my love for tales, I also think of my becoming a story-teller. And I think it all traces back to one of the most influential people in my life, my great-grandmother.
But that, my friends, is another story for another day.