In a way, each story that we tell has the same kernel in it- our dreams, hopes and longing all lost and found again in a smile that can light up a fire inside or bring joy. You and I have become wordsmiths who try to bring all our liquid pain into the art of telling pleasing stories.
The stories that we write are not what really happened or events that could really happen. These come from an imagination that loves to wander and see what would have happened if we were together and not apart as was willed in life.
Sometimes, it is sunshine and laughter outside; depends on the state of this mercurial soul. The reality imposes on us, at times taking away everything and at times giving blessings unasked for.
Your stories reveal the joy of finding happiness in new things, which are in fact, new ways to name the old likes and loves while I harp on change and about moving on but have stayed in the same year where I stopped learning. The year that I write in my mind is often the one I lost you in life.
The fire of a smile still burns in these kernel stories of love, longing and loss and we have become like straight lines that run along parallel throughout the many lives.
