Tag Archives: Memories

My Story: A Brilliant Shade of Blue

blueskySometimes a story buzzes around in my head for a while before I am able to get it right — this is certainly the case with my story for today. I like to ask people what their first memories are of. For some people it’s just a fleeting impression and for others it is in amazing clarity with lots of details.

Christine’s first memory was a flood of orange juice. The cascading fall of it as it slipped out of her grasp and spread into a large puddle in front of the fridge, the pulpy bits lodging themselves between her toes. Why mom kept it in that glass pitcher, she never thought to ask. Her mother was the one who found Christine standing in the juice puddle, and she lifted her onto the sink counter to wash her ankles and toes with warm water.

Listen to A Brilliant Shade of Blue. And tell me what you would think about if you had the time to sit still with your own thoughts.

That’s my story. Tell me one of yours.

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My Story: When It’s Enough

My story today includes a few cups of tea.My story today is a little more personal than most of my others, because the mother in the story is based on my own mother — a woman I greatly respect, admire and love.

Children retain so many memories of their parents, but only in the role of parents. So few of us get to know the person outside of the parental role — the coworker, the friend, the person they were before becoming a parent.

My Mother was still waiting. Sitting at the kitchen table with a snack for us, or to take our wet jackets and umbrellas. Sometimes even in the same spot we had left her at breakfast. In my child’s mind she was always waiting for me there – her life at a standstill when I left the room. She is waiting now. For the rain to stop and her grandson to wake from his nap. And maybe even for me.

Listen to: When It’s Enough.

That’s my story. Tell me one of yours.

 

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My story: The Repetition of an Unlived Life

In my story today, we take a look at the repercussions of our final words. Some people claim that if they could repeat their lives, they wouldn’t change a thing. That can’t be true — just think of all the heartache and pain that you could save yourself if you could relive your life.My story revolves around a lot of pennies.

But what if you truly couldn’t make any changes? How would you feel about being stuck in an endless loop of living and déjà vu and memories?

The next afternoon…he saw the few words he had scribbled on the crinkly brown paper bag:
Your life is a repeat and you have to go through it all again. You’re not crazy, Gerald. Just drunk.
Gerald sat there on the floor, holding the cracked words from his paper bag confession and wondering about the sanity of a drunken mind. Drunks were always honest, he thought, although they might not always make sense. And it was this reasoning that lead Gerald to believe himself.

Enjoy today’s story: The Repetition of an Unlived Life.

That’s my story. Tell me one of yours.

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My story: Growing Up Along the Edge

Watch out! This is the edge.As my story today shows, the edge of something can be razor sharp or a bit blurred at times. But, no matter the case, you have to be careful when approaching it.

In Growing Up Along the Edge, the narrator takes a look back at the things that made his hometown special and his childhood seem a little ominous.

In my later years, I had passed along my tales of the edge to my own children – all mature stories venturing into middle age: Of the time I lost my father’s flashlight to its bottomless depths. Or the day the wind was so strong it lifted the blackness over the edge and it rolled over our ankles in scorching waves. Of my last visit, when I celebrated my 21st birthday with a drink by its side.

Think back to what your childhood memories are like in your town. Anything unusual you’d like to share? Tell me in the comments.

That’s my story. Tell me one of yours.

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My story: Memories of Being Ticklish on a Hot Summer’s Day

My story needs three women to tell it.My story today deals with memories.

We all know that the older we get, the more our memories fail us: First kisses, the ways we spent our summer vacations and even being ticklish fade away with time. But what if your memories aren’t accurate to begin with? In today’s storytelling podcast episode Memories of Being Ticklish on a Hot Summer’s Day, a woman and her twin daughters have different ways of accessing the past and the present; each of them believes that their memories are the truth.

As an adult, are you afraid of being ticklish?

That’s my story. Tell me one of yours.

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