We had dinner on Sunday with friends who moved away a few years ago. Our families have been hanging out since our kids started school together six years ago. It was so nice to be together again (minus one...we'll have to rectify that soon, won't we Suze?). Nice and easy.
There was so much catching up to do. We sat at the dinner table and talked for hours. It's hard to find words for an evening like this. We told story after story. Some from our time together and others from way back..."Mommy, tell about the time you were stung by the jellyfish." Callum would say, "I seem to be full of stories tonight!" And then his eyes would light up and he'd say, "Ah! Another one!" Evenings like that are so wonderful when they're shared.
My mom and I talked on the phone the next night about how important stories are. She was talking about this blog and what a lot of you have said about it. The stories are what makes our life's events feel real. We live it once, and then we retell and retell, somehow cementing the reality of an experience. I think that's why I write this blog. It's not for profit or even posterity...I always say it's a gift to my family. Taking our stories, telling them and making them real.