I NEED STORIES. I’m often pestered to write a thought ramble to share with you. If my life is routine, nothing exciting happening, I have nothing to write about — so I’m given ideas. For a long time I have felt that I’m usually in the right place, at the right time to either be helped myself or to help someone else. I just have to be aware, paying attention — not distracted.
There is another purpose to the stories I’m given, not only to write but to physically “tell.” Many years ago I attended an audition looking for performers. I was active in the storytelling guild world at the time and decided to try out. Many people carried equipment with them. I realized that I carried my stories in my pocket — there is always room for more.
Okay — I’m rambling — is there a point to this? YES! Recently “I found a dime” and wrote about it. Recently I had the opportunity to “tell” the story. One of my neighbors is “challenged.” I don’t know much about her — age, name, medical problem. I first noticed her a few years ago — she keeps to herself when out. I first thought she was a child, and possibly lost. Although I often saw her, I never spoke to her. The opportunity didn’t present itself. Since I was concerned, when I saw her landlady I asked a few questions. I learned that she wasn’t a child instead a woman in her forties and capable of living alone. If I learned what her challenge was I have since forgot. Her path has crossed mine a few times, enough where we now exchange a few words. Mostly it is about the weather — staying warm, being careful.
I was out walking Robin when we met last week. For a change the sun was out, light wind, the temperature comfortable for winter. She shared a secret with me, the passing of her mother in the Fall. She asked that I pray for her mother in heaven. I shared a few short stories with her, demonstrating that those who have passed are often with us when needed. I ended my short stories with my recent experience of finding a dime. Since it was recent, it made an impression. Did it help her with her loss? I don’t know. But I find it comforting, when I’m not being hit on the head, to know that those who have passed are still with me, even if they are on the other side, even if I don’t see or hear them.