You have lived a lifetime!
You have so many stories
to tell, they can fill a
room. And that’s not
counting stories you make
up, go for it. Tell it!
You have lived a lifetime! You have so many stories to tell, they can fill a room. And that’s not counting stories you make up, go for it. Tell it!
Your story connects us. It may bring a smile or a thought from way back when, it may tell us something about who we are, where we’ve come from or what matters. Your story can make someone feel less alone.
Women after fifty have been through sooo much: childhood, school, work, partners, motherhood, children, makeups, breakups, parents, illness, pain, pleasure, joy. Not to mention the 60’s & 70’s (like no other) and of course the 80’s & 90’s, and now the 21st century. Girl, do we have stories!
And when we share stories … it’s like a big, long, hug.
It’s like breathing in together, deeply; a deep, deep breath; and exhaling, slowly, together.
It feels sooo good.
Stories to Read
My husband and I got into an argument while driving on Interstate 8 from San Diego to our old house in Tucson. Funny that we’d been living in San Diego for three months and on that day of all days, we were driving to Tucson on the anniversary of his late wife’s death.
It was the fifth of October 1946. I was standing on the platform at Donnybrook, clutching the precious gift in my hands. I was nine years old and wearing my new frock made of white mosquito netting.
“We never really knew her,” my cousin said as she stood next to me at the graveside. I remember thinking, “No you didn’t. None of you did. But I knew her. I KNEW HER. And I was not ready for her to go. I had all these plans, all these things I wanted to do with my...
“No! No! No!” everything inside of me screamed. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be at anymore meetings or corporate lunches. I didn’t want to dress right, carry a calendar the size of a phone book, answer 100 emails and voicemails a day, develop anymore...
In early 1996, my daughter Dana had a sleepover at her friend Reba Fiori’s house. When I picked them up, she started saying that Reba’s house was haunted, and Reba casually agreed. “It’s true,” she said. Dana heard footsteps all night, up and down the stairs and...
My first real job was props and casting with an advertising agency called O&M. It was 1973 in Malaysia and there were no talent scouts or casting agents. When the company needed actors for their TV commercials, I would go out and find them, in the streets if I had...
Why is a stranger on Theresa’s front porch with his pants down, showing her his tush? And is that Bill, her husband , coming up the driveway?
Her mother said she was crazy and a liar. Chris knew then, and now, she wasn’t.
The boyfriend Grandma arranged in Portugal the summer Carol visited.