December 21, 2011

learn your stories

Twelve Days of Writing No. 11: Remember that even you have a story to tell.

While completing a questionnaire this summer to include in the "About Me" section on this blog, one of the prompts asked what stories are the ones people must say about me. I had a couple in mind, but wanting to get them straight from the source, I called my mom.

When I asked, she shared three stories. They just so happened to be the ones I had in mind. All three were also Christmas-related, which makes it all the more fitting this time of year.

Story one:
"When you were 18 months old, we put you down for a nap and while you were sleeping we put up the Christmas tree and decorated it. When you woke up, we brought you out and your eyes were as big as a saucer. You kept turning around in circles looking at it. You were very amazed and very cute."

Story two:
"When you were 3, we were at church Christmas Eve and you were up on the stage singing. You were on TV and the camera stayed on you. You were just beautiful, your eyes were so shiny. And all of the sudden this little hand went up and went for the nose, and they sped away from you real fast."

Story three:
"The other was that same Christmas. You loved the songs you were singing at church, so you would sing them all the time. Dad was tucking you into bed and he said something about Christmas being over and you said, 'Christmas is not over. Christmas is in our hearts.'"

Being a little vain, these stories always make me smile to hear. More importantly, they taught me that I can never say I don't have my own stories to tell.

Giveaway challenge: What is the story your family most tells about you?

Answer in the comments below to be entered to win this week's Twelve Days of Writing drawing. Be sure to check back Friday at 2 p.m. CDT to see if you are this week's winner. Read about the contest and what prizes you can win here.

1 comment:

  1. When I was little and we lived out in California, I watched a lot of Sesame Street. One day, my mom and I were sitting on the backyard bench that wrapped around a tree and I said, "Mommy, you're 'next to'", apparently sharing with her that day's lesson.

    It is nice, isn't it, to have someone "next to"?