Friday, May 21, 2010

Material for Another Story

I have been away from home for a few days and once more my computer would not work. I guess it was homesick. Forgive me.

A dreamer lived back Neff Road. She played with little toys beneath the dining room table, walked down the back lane to sit by the creek, swung alone in the barn hoping a mouse didn’t happen by. A dreamer was this child.

Why do I remember so many things from my past? Why are things of the past so important to me? Why does the dreamer dream? I’m sure that I am a carryover from the past. You know, the age when history was carried on from generation to generation by the storytellers. I’m not sure what constitutes a storyteller. I certainly wouldn’t put me up there with the wonderful tellers of tales that roamed Ireland or the Shaman who saw over his tribe. No one ever told stories to me yet in everything I saw, the story called to me.

I was once asked if I believed in reincarnation. How would I know? I am not all knowing. I am just a collector of life, a collector of today, yesterday and of potential tomorrows. A dreamer, a storyteller lived back the lane on Neff Road.

I am at the beach this week absorbing the Pacific Ocean and hanging with a good friend. We stood staring across the water.

“Does the ocean scare you?” she asked. “It scares me that it is so deep and full of things I can’t see.”

No, the ocean does not scare me. This great Pacific fascinates me. It draws me in with its mystery. I am humbled and cannot look away from its massive expanse.

Last night the wind gusted to 70mph and sometimes more. I opened the door to the condo and was pulled out almost flying over the railing six floors up. My friends grabbed the door and me.

“We thought we lost you. Your feet flew off the ground.”

Yes, for a few moments I thought I had lost me as well. This mighty storm, the roaring tide was telling me another story. A story of my vulnerability, a story of raging power, a story for another time.

We are all stories and storytellers in one way or another. As grandparents, it is our responsibility to hand on the past to the future, to keep alive a tradition that has brought us to this place. In remembering, in sharing, we give a gift to those who will tell the stories and keep them alive.

I am a dreamer. I am a grandmother. I was the child who lived back the lane on Neff Road, and this is my story.

No comments: