A Storied Story

I had to call a complete stranger and my opener went like this: “Hi, my name is Teresa and I got your name and number from a friend about playing bagpipes, does that make sense?” And the complete stranger without missing a beat, responds “Which part, that I play the bagpipes or that you have friends?” And yes, it worked out that he could play bagpipes at the event that I am helping to plan, but more importantly, he took a chance that I would get his kind of humour – and he totally won the bet because I have been cracking myself up all week and telling the tale to anyone who will listen.

When the kids were small – which they are not anymore, having just experienced my final back to school first day with year-four university for my youngest – we had a favourite book. It was about reworking a favourite piece of clothing each time it wore out into something smaller, until finally it was lost but reworked into a story.  I love a good story, I love hearing about things that have happened to others, that make me laugh, cry, even tick me off sometimes. But at all times, I’m happy to be a part of other people’s experiences and able to learn.  Shared human experience, a moment of conspiracy in this thing called life that we are all trying to navigate in our own way is precious.  It makes me take everything just a little less seriously. 

Have I told you about the time I called a bag piper? Stop me if I have already told you that story, or not. because it’s a great one. A great story is something from nothing that lasts.

Photo by Skyler Sion on Pexels.com

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