We sat around the fire telling the kids stories about when they were
littler. They were thrilled to be up late, in the dark, talking around
the fire pit together. We told story after story - some just little
snippets and glimpses - and their eyes would flicker with recognition
and they'd croon, "Yeaaaaah.... I remember that!"
"Let's keep talking about remembers," she said, perched upright and eager in her mini-camping chair.
Those stories wrapped them up like blankets, layers of comfort and security and belonging. Who doesn't relish discovering who they are and where they've been, learning how the people we love the most see us through the stories they remember and tell, feeling just how much we belong to and with the people who make up the stuff of which our stories are made.
"Let's keep talking about remembers," she said, perched upright and eager in her mini-camping chair.
Those stories wrapped them up like blankets, layers of comfort and security and belonging. Who doesn't relish discovering who they are and where they've been, learning how the people we love the most see us through the stories they remember and tell, feeling just how much we belong to and with the people who make up the stuff of which our stories are made.
