I am a collector of other people’s stories, I realize this when a friend comments the other day. I am asking her about her silver jewelry. She has a wide prominent ring on each finger on both her hands. I learn that she has loved silver since she was eight years old and that her mother was from New Mexico and the silver is a nod to the Southwest where much of her identity lies. My husband adds into the conversation reminding me that I had interrogated a waiter in a restaurant recently because he had so many interesting gold chains and medallion’s around his neck. How we ornament ourselves tells stories. He seemed so pleased that I asked and a long tale ensued. He has loved gold since he was 12. He started getting jobs so he could buy himself jewelry. This is when the friend commented about how I seem to love stories. I listen to stories all day long from my clients. …
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Tides
Here at the shore we organize our days according to the tides. Quiet time first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee sitting above the beach on our deck listening to the rhythmic swishing of the waves, in and out and in and out. Today it is peaceful with little wind. A few lone birds fly over head.
Later mid-day is high tide and that is when we like to swim. Low tide is when we like to walk. Most days we see our lone great blue heron come to hunt for a meal.
There are storms of course, and higher highs and lower lows, but still a steady backdrop to our days.
Against this predictability unfolds all the drama of our lives.
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