The Stories We Tell

I like people.

I really do.

I've worked with people a lot and enjoyed it. From cosmetology school to selling tuxedos, my work setting has revolved around serving people, pleasing people, talking to people.

Communication is one of the biggest, most common ways we relate and interact with other humans. Writing is one major form of communication. And stories is a huge part of writing. Therefore, stories are a form of communication.

Besides reading stories, I also hear a lot of oral stories, especially since it's my job to directly interact with people. The other day I sold a professional artist a tuxedo. We talked, and I learned about his story, his passion for art, why he does art, his desire to show people the way he sees things. We parted ways, his gift to me a signed card displaying three miniatures of his photograph-like graphite drawings, mine a promise to go view his work at the local art museum.

A man still living in the '60s with a display of grey curls a top his head and sporting a tie die shirt comes by the next day. He doesn't tell me stories but schools me in his likes, dislikes and overall personality. Which is a story in itself.

The best stories to be told are ones you get to take part in. I colored and styled the hair of a precious, elderly lady, dying of malignant melanoma. She told me her story-- of her life, her son-- smile positive and soft eyes still bright as her arm was wrapped in gauze to hide the skin mauled by cancer. Fingers on her left hand were missing. When I had finished her hair, she looked into the mirror, and eyes brimmed with unshed tears. She said it had been a long time since she'd felt beautiful.

And this is why I write-- to tell stories. To tell my stories, others' stories and God's stories.