You Are My Story

Do you ever think about the cubic feet in which you spend your time?

Sometimes I think about the space that I occupy the most, and feel fortunate, indeed.

My frequent dwelling space is the footprint of our little house: a subterranian level (the basement), a ground floor, and a second floor. I’m not counting the attic because I hardly go up there.

Within this tri-level space is a nook which is our bedroom and its ante-room. I would consider these two portions my hub, and that little niche pictured is my place of all places.

All of my best things are there, and many of them you know.

The prism that I told you about hangs in the window behind the chair, throwing rainbow orbs around the room most mornings – best time of day.

Just to the right of the crystal hangs the epic hawk-in-flight photo that was gifted to us by my youngest sister, and under that remarkable rendering is the cache of yarn that connects me to my other sister, who helps me crochet. My sisters are in this space.

And there you see the bison portrait from Bryce Canyon – best animal ever, and I told you all about that, too. Well, then there’s the gothic window frame strung with lights because – if you think like me – home is church, too. Next is the great-grandmother spider plant, started from a sprout given to me by the art teacher at our school, long ago.

Beside the plant is the zen fountain – sculpted of burnished copper and resplendent with aqua dragonflies. It offers a babbling brook in sight and sound, right here in this room. My colleagues at school endowed me with this peace.

And of course there are books supporting all of that.

I ask you –

is there anything better than a bookcase full of books?

Well that’s a whole tale on its own right there.

So, back to the gold chair which is the worn out one that sat in the corner of my parent’s livingroom way back when, and then saw some time in my oldest brother’s home too, before it found its way to us. Sure it’s threadbare and softened with time, but when you tilt back with a good read, you’re cradled as in a hammock hung from a big old tree.

So that’s all the stuff in this airy alcove.

But there is one thing more:

you are here, too.

You have been here all along.

Can the way you have touched my life be separated from who I am and how I experience things?

It cannot be.

You are part of me, too.

You are my story.

And we all know –

there is nothing better

than a good story.

8 thoughts on “You Are My Story

  1. Deb, this is fabulous. You are fabulous. You and your fabulous outlook on the world. On the stories in the world. You take mere words and turn them into golden stories. I feel privileged to have read your stories and ridden along with you these past 31 days.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank YOU. I have so enjoyed sharing this journey, looking forward to reading your slices each day, and coming to realize all of the parallels in our lives. I am so grateful for this experience and this month. Thank you for including me in this grand adventure. We did it!


  2. Such a rich description. I want to live in this home. Your writing had me experiencing your life as if it were my own for a moment. Thanks so much for this great Slice!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much. I had so much emotion brimming in me while writing this slice, including such gratitude for this writing community. I include reading your slices as a part of that amazing expereince as well.


  3. This is an almost magical post about your spot – including its history and feel. I feel like I am sitting with you…Perhaps we should ALL share our writing spaces at the beginning of the Challenge – next year!

    Liked by 1 person

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