charmed, i'm sure

charmed, i'm sure

ever since my kindergarten teacher gave the storyteller's stool to me i have been reluctant to give it up. i thrive on the story, those others and of my own. i tell them over lunch, in the grocery line, at the supper table and in my own head in the middle of the night, but that's just a piece of who i am.

i can't remember if the charm bracelet was a gift from my children or to myself from me, but i've had it for years. once a few years ago when i misplaced it for a few weeks, i woke in the middle of the night in tears because it felt truthfully that i had lost a piece of myself. or lots of pieces.

there are two typewriters hanging from it. at least two dogs. a rocking chair and a rolling pin. a starfish, a guitar (well, that's not me but is my son), a camera and the state of north carolina. an eagle scout pin (another son one). birdhouse, sailboat, pineapple, pinecone.

a story in each.

i'm a writer who loves to tug the story out of myself and others. one of my working joys is to be able to string words together so they sound a bit like music, at least to me. i work in communications as a church lady who tries to tell the story of how God works in mysterious ways in the lives of the people around me. and in that job, i use every professional skill i've ever learned, including typing, which at 17 was convinced i would never need.

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