For the last several weeks, I’ve intersected with a sign that says, “Your story matters”. I love the brown butterfly wings, the emphasis on the word, “Your,” and how the hand-carved message is etched into aged wood. Sometimes I spill my way through each day, trying to catch the drops of moments that keep streaming down the perimeter of my life glass. There is so much that I have to do and so much I want to do. Between moments of making dinner, washing dishes, doing laundry, running, reading, writing, answering questions from my daughter and the steady waterfall of texts, emails, and phone calls, my story evaporates somewhere.
Or does my story really dissolve? The truth is, after reviewing my musts and wants, I am reluctant to eliminate a single item from my list. My cup spills over, but the contents represent what matters to me. Each undertaking offers a story. Providing a home cooked meal, tending to laundry, and washing dishes appeals the nurturing part of my story. I love the smile on my daughter’ s face after making hand-made rotis, an Indian version of tortillas. She enjoys filling them with honey and then will say, “Momma, you are the best cook.” I suspect years later she might remember her mom kneading the dough, rolling each lump into a circle, and watching how it rises, the fluff and butter smell permeating through the whole house.
The me part of my story usually centers around running, reading, and writing. I believe all of us lurch toward a home that always resides in us. That sense of whimsy, fulfillment and joy that transcends geography or people or circumstances. Running offers a refuge and shelter, not only for my thoughts, but a place for all of my restless energy to land. My work, reading and writing, are my passion. When I am in my office, filling the blank page or reading a thoughtful passage, I feel all the textures of being home. Telling my story, here or in my memoir, is what matters to me.
The waterfall of questions from my daughter corner the mundane to the philosophical. It ranges from “When will dinner be ready? to Where do babies come from? or How do I spell friendship?” Every time she asks a question, she understands the importance of learning, listening, and connecting. Most of all, this is how I connect with my daughter. The stories I will remember about our time together are these conversations that happen on a Monday afternoon in the middle of our living room.
The other part of my story, the uncertain part, matters. Those gulfs are filled with girls’ night with friends, a date with my husband, a letter to a friend, and communicating with my sister and mom and friends through texts, emails and phone calls. This steady stream of loved ones keeps me so grounded. These connections all matter.
My story matters. Your story matters. Look at how you are etching your wood. That is where it matters the most.
Beautiful!
Etching your wood. Lovely!
I find it so hard to remember and focus on the crux of my own story amid all the supporting details: laundry, carpool, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, kid-wrangling, pet-wrangling, husband-wrangling, etc. And sometimes, I feel like there is no story. Thanks for the reminder to keep looking, keep trying, keep etching.
Absolutely, every story matters. I think it’s important to preserve family stories. Genealogy is much more than a set of dates and heritage is more than culture. They both consist of personal stories, and every single one is important.
I agree, Rudri, every moment in our lives is a part of our own unique story – every action, thought and emotion a thread that gets weaved into our life fabric. Nothing is ever too insignificant. I teach essay writing to international students and this is what I try to tell them, that everyone has a story worth telling and that there is no one in the world that can tell the same story. And this is the magic of blogging, isn’t it? We all have such different stories to tell, and yet the themes are universal, and in that way we are all connected. This was beautiful, Rudri.
What a nice reminder that we’re creating writing, sketching, compiling our life story in the things we do and feel and say and give time to each day.
“each undertaking offers a story.” This is so true.
A beautiful reminder. Our story matters and can inspire someone…there is beauty in the mundane…there is beauty in the passion within. xo
P.S I just read your email. I am excited, thank you!
“I believe all of us lurch toward a home that always resides in us.”
WOW. That one made me stop in my tracks. Beautiful.
Beautiful, Rudri.
Loved it! You make ROTIS!?!? You are amazing!
When I recognized the buttefly in your snapshot, I knew I had a message that would touch my heart, and yours truly did early this morning! Your words especially touched me as a 30+ year veteran runner, reader and writer! Gifts that keep on giving should be treasured, nurtured and appreciated. . . thank you for reminding me, Rudri. Trish
We don’t always realize how important the small details are, as we go about our days. Like stitches in fabric, they provide strength for us and our families.
Lovely post.
I stopped by b/c of SITS Girls Sharefest but I totally loved this post. It resonates with me b/c I blog about similar topics at ExaltedPeacock.com
There is something to be said for recognizing that you are stitching the tapestry that will later represent your life. I love the reference to the wood carving.
Thanks so much for sharing.
Happy Sharefest 🙂
I love this post. It’s so important to remember-especially as moms.
You’re right our stories do matter, every single moment of them. It’s so easy to get swept away, without recognizing the gift of whatever it is that is happening right now. You put is so well “these connections all matter.”
Beautiful thought-filled reminder!
Thank you.
Hi, just found your blog through Saturday Sharefest and I am glad I did. I love your blog and look forward to reading more. Bye for now, Darlene