tell me a story

“When are you going to tell me your story, Margaret?”
“Me? I haven’t got one.”
“Of course you have, everybody has a story. It’s like families. You might not know who they are, might have lost them, but they still exist all the same. You might drift apart or you might turn your back on them, but you can’t say you haven’t got them. So, everybody has a story.” … “You are at liberty to say nothing, of course, but silence is not a natural environment for stories. They need words. Without them they grow pale, sicken and die. And then they haunt you.”

from The Thirteenth Tale, by Diane Setterfield



This is a story about my family.

When I was little I was in love with my family. We were two plus two plus two. We were old/young and old/young and old/young. We played softball and rode on the lawnmower with dad. In the winter he’d try his best not to run us over with the tractor while he pulled us on the sled in the snow. Mom led us in Brownies and took us camping and hiking and read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe to us over and over. We laughed at dad when he mispronounced Reepicheep intentionally for the 500th time.

I remember how good we were. We made sense. And even when it wasn’t comfortable the discomfort was comforting. It was mine. And though we all know the story doesn’t end there, that there were moments when we were mean and spiteful and sarcastic, today, this is my story.

When are you going to tell me your story?

Monday, June 04, 2007