I am... a collector of stories

Some people can remember names or faces. I can do neither. I even switch people's names of those I hold dear (sorry, Daniel... err... Julien). There is no excuse or explanation to brush this inadequacy aside. Still, there is one thing that I'm good at and this is collecting and remembering stories.

I'm sitting at a community table in a lovely café. The two women sitting next to me seem to have only met by chance. Even though they don't know each other well, they enter into an intensely deep conversation after the first 15 minutes.

There is very little chance I will see either woman again, but if I do, I will definitely remember how the one fell in love with her partner (she just met his parents!") and how the other had a terrible father and has always been disappointed by her lovers, so is only focusing on being a good mother. By the end of the conversation the two women get up and hug before going their separate ways. An afternoon well spent.

Of course, most of the stories I collect are not found by listening into private conversations (I swear they were talking loud enough it was impossible not to overhear). I particularly like stories told by relative strangers (e.g. taxi drivers, storekeepers, or museum security guards) or those strangers who become briefly instant friends because of certain circumstances (e.g. long-haul airplane trip or in a crowded doctor's waiting room.) But, like drinking instant coffee, such encounters can leave a bitter after taste once you say goodbye. You have to make sure to wrap up such conversations with consideration and thankfulness. If not, it can be really awkward. 

Then there are the stories told over and over again when friends and family meet. You have to be careful of not repeating them too often. Especially, as one gets older, this is such an embarrassing thing to do. You might catch some people in the room roll their eyes. How mortifying.

It's those stories told in secret that sometimes tear my heart apart. I have yet to find a method to remove the burden of these stories from my soul. I'd love to be able to set them free.

Stories, whether gifts of reminiscing or burden of confessions, are always precious. I try and hold on to the dearly.