The fabric of stories

Before I can write my stories, I must talk about who makes up a story. My story isn't my story. It is the story of all of those who touch my life. And it's all of their stories too. Starting before I was born, my mother's story was mine, I had nothing to tell, but her story wouldn't be the same without me. My parents story made me into who I am. Every story I may tell weaves  it's way back to them. And my stories would be so dry and boring if I couldn't tell my boys' stories too. And their stories wouldn't be here if it weren't for my stories.

Of course now, probably the most influential parts of my stories are shared. His stories and my stories are one story together. The only time they aren't the same is when we are apart, but they are still held together by some mighty strong threads. And then, when we are together again, we share, laugh, cry, and our stories become one again. Yes, perspective makes our same stories completely different but that gives us something to share and to strengthen those threads.

The other thing that accompanies stories and all who tell them is bad plots. Those little things make life unpleasant. The things that someone has done, done to us, or done without regard to us. That which makes us feel guilty, although we've done nothing wrong. The things we don't want in our stories because we don't want anyone to know about it. But while we hide others' secrets, our stories suffer. We aren't allowing sympathy or empathy into our lives. We are closed off and isolated. We can't fully live when we are hiding other people's character flaws, when we allow non founded guilt to keep others out, when we forget how to forgive and love.

So when I start to tell a story and wonder if it's mine to tell I realize without a doubt that it has to be mine, bad plot lines and all. That if the story is in, has changed, or is working in my life, then it's my story too. I do know that some things are truly better off not said, shared, and that there are times when I should check before including your part of my story, but I'm not going to hide from the story.

 I wouldn't be Annie without your stories, and I hope that my stories make up a little part of you too.