Story

August 03, 2019 1 min read

Story

"Tell us a story, Dad."

My two girls got one nightly.

Now they stay up later than me.

But back in the day, there was a serial about three characters.

I made them up.

Waffles and Zuzu are two ladybugs.

Their best friend is Teefy the alligator.

They had all sorts of magical adventures.

We're storytellers at heart.

Beginnings.

Middles.

Ends.

Arcs.

Heroes' journeys.

Our own day-to-day lives.

Stories.

Birth.

Life.

Death.

I don't want to know how, when, or why I'll die.

I'll leave the ending ambiguous for now.

I prefer it that way.

Open-ended.

Suspense.

Conflict.

Moves the story forward.

Life moves forward just like that.

Then it doesn't.

All we have left is the dash.

The dash on our headstone.

Between birth date and death date.

All we have is that darn dash.

The daring dash.

The dauntless dash.

The dazzling dash.

The decent dash (h/t Adam).

The decisive dash.

The dedicated dash.

The deeper part of you dash.

The dash of defeat.

Of defiance.

Of delight.

Of desire.

Of determination.

Of devotion.

Of dignity.

Of discovery.

The dash of dreams.

So never stay in one place too long.

One home.

One emotion.

One job.

One friend.

We evolve.

Our story arcs go up and down.

Like the proverbial roller coaster.

Hold on.

Now is the time to ride.

To plant.

To create.

To express.

To write.

To live.



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