story tell me

I love stories. Stories have always been a prevalent part of my life and the most wondrous aspects of childhood. Stories resonated so deeply with my sister and I that we both found ways to pursue them in our studies and it's one my sister continues to pursue in her PhD. I’m constantly amazed by the engrossing nature of stories, the limitless possibilities they share and the lessons they have to teach. A good story is magical.

About a week ago, my mom told me a story about a trip she took when she was in high school with her older sister, a family friend, and 8-year-old niece. It was an incredible story about one of those experiences in life that is filled with such genuine joy and innocence that it deeply resonates with everyone involved. It is one of those moments that becomes a cherished memory that is often revisited and fondly remembered. This story nourished my soul and was exactly what I needed for my bout of blues.

At the same time, I started reading The Phantom Tollbooth for the first time. It was so amazing to have two varying and wonderful tales being told to me. The Phantom Tollbooth is magnificent, and the first book I’ve read for pleasure since graduating, how fortuitous it was. While it maybe classified as a children’s book, I can’t imagine a more fitting time to have read such a book. I am quite taken with it. 

"The little car started to go faster and faster as Milo's brain whirled with activity, and down the road they went. In a few moments they were out of the Doldrums and back on the main highway. All the colors had returned to their original brightness, and as they raced along the road Milo continued to think of all sorts of things; of the many detours and wrong turns that were so easy to take, of how fine it was to be moving along, and, most of all, of how much could be accomplished with just a little thought."
 

I hope I'll be moving along soon.