At the end of it all, what are we left with but our story? All of life’s moments wrapped up into one beautiful journey of love and loss, struggle and growth.
An invisible thread, transporting us instantaneously with something as simple as a smell, an object, or a song from the radio.
And just like any story we spend time with, parts are forgotten, their contents failing to resonate, while others stay with us, imprinted on the very depths of who we are.
It’s our stories that are left. The tales of loved ones who walked before us, parts carried forward, parts let go.
It’s a choice we make, being the creators of our lives. We hold the pencils, choosing the direction our stories will go in. Choosing the words we share with our children, the recipes we cook, the photographs we keep.
It’s pausing for a moment when the scent of a tea towel reminds you of your grandmother’s kitchen.
It’s slowing down in the garden when you see your child working beside you.
It’s in the simplicity of these moments that write the heart of our story. That weaves the invisible thread between generations, speaking to the depths of who we are.
Let us be intentional with our stories. Let us write more about love and growth, and less on loss and struggle.
Let our homes be filled with what matters most, our family, our friends and the things that connect us.
Let the art on the walls make you smile. And if it doesn’t, change it.
Sharpen your pencil and start over.
You are a storyteller. We are all storytellers; it’s who we are.
Our history runs deep in the stories of our ancestors.
And will continue on after we are gone.
Because at the end of it all, what are we left with but our story? All of life’s moments wrapped up into one beautiful journey.