Storyteller- Secret Keeper

She wandered and wondered. At the same time and not. But always one or the other, if not both at the same time. Would it matter in the end? “Being” out loud in thought instead of sneaky in secrecy with everything swirly whirly in her head. A made up story was easy. After doing it enough times there’s a formula, a recipe of sorts. You follow it loosely. Main ingredients of deceit, humour and made up facts, coupled with minor variations of secondary ingredients needed to make a story complete and more importantly, believable.

A story is what it was and what it still is. Some stories are more true than others and some are just stories. No one really knows except the storyteller and she often doubles as a secret keeper. It’s a full-time gig at times and at others, a commercial break interrupting daily life.

It’s all there, the truth. It’s just a matter of who wants to know it, including the storyteller. Who is ready for it and who would rather be lulled to calm and peace by a story versus the truth.

Perhaps they can dance together.

Excerpt from ‘Briefly’

She is my new Mommy. In the summertime, right around my birthday, when it’s really hot out and all I can think about is running through the sprinkler in the yard and eating grape popsicles, my Mommy went to heaven. I asked Daddy why she didn’t take me with her and he said because I am supposed to stay here with him. That’s fine with me because being with Daddy is one of my favourite things!  Daddy brought home a new Mommy that looks nothing like Mommy. She has blonde hair and glasses and a different laugh than Mommy. And, she’s not very tall. Mommy was tall, with dark curly hair. The new Mommy is different but she brought me sisters and I like that.