We get to write our stories.

Sunday afternoon and the promise of more snow hung heavy like the clouds. We hadn’t left the house all day and I thought, “If we don’t get out of this house, we may not survive another snow day tomorrow.” We bundled up, venturing out for a walk around the block. The older girls protested, they wanted to ride their bikes. Rose was just happy to be offered the chance to walk instead of getting strapped in the stroller. This mom wanted to tire the children out!

Just as we headed right, towards the main road, a few stray snowflakes began to swirl around us. “I don’t see any snow,” Adi said when we pointed out the flakes.

“Let’s go around my school,” Wren suggested. “We can run down the big hill and then loop around home.”

We all headed towards the school. The older girls skipped ahead, a move newly mastered by Adi, her hops forced compared  to Wren’s more natural and practiced skipping.

When we got to the big hill that ran on the side of Wren’s school, leading towards the playground, Wren and Adi took off running. Rose picked up the pace, eager to join them. “No, no,” my husband said to Rose. “You walk.” I knew he was afraid the momentum would pull her down.

I grabbed onto her hood and said, “Go ahead Rosie, run!” She toddled faster, her smile lighting up her round little face.

Then the playground came into view just as the snow began to pick up. All three girls begged to play.

“Not today,” I said. “We came to walk. Who wants to race?” I took off running down the sidewalk, towards home.

I heard footsteps following beside me and then a thud. I looked back to see Wren plastered to the sidewalk. As she slowly peeled her face off the cement, I rushed to see the damage.

A skinned chin and two skinned knees. Could have been worse….and you would have thought it was worse by Wren’s reaction. She flung herself into my arms and proceeded to cry hysterically as the snow now caused a white out around us.

“Let’s keep walking,” I said, holding her hand and pulling her along. “Now you have a story to write…”

I rehearsed the story from the beginning- the need for a walk, the first sight of snow, the skipping, and the running. When I got to the part after the fall, I said, “And then we walked home in a blizzard of snow. When we got home my mom cleaned my scrapes and we had hot chocolate.”

The next day, cleaned up and recovered, Wren worrying about her scrapes chin said, “I think my friends will say it looks like I have a beard. What should I tell them?”

“Tell them you fell,” I said.

“Or, I can say I forget,” she replied.

“Or you can tell them the story of walking in the blizzard,” Adi chimed in…Who knew she had been listening?

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Before the fall…

 

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16 thoughts on “We get to write our stories.

  1. Love it and glad she is okay. I hope she writes it! The photo is priceless. I remember those days — you were smart to get them out of the house. This line is my favorite – I grabbed onto her hood and said, “Go ahead Rosie, run!” She toddled faster, her smile lighting up her round little face. I could see it, hear it and feel it. Thank you for letting me join you on your walk!

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  2. All my friends are connected. ☝🏻here’s a comment from my friend Clare that highlights exactly the part that was magic. I also loved that you practiced the story to distract Wren but Adi picked up on it. Just like in the class, we coach one, but we don’t know who is listening and learning.

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  3. Love this reaction you had: “Let’s keep walking,” I said, holding her hand and pulling her along. “Now you have a story to write…” Evidence you’re living like a writer! Hope she is okay, and like Clare said, hope she writes that story!

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  4. Skinned knees and faces hurt a lot– even for a few days. I bet bathtime is still an issue. Love how you capture the moments here and that you help them capture the moment and tell the story, too. My girls are big now–you bring me back to the days where I just wanted to tire them out!

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  5. How universal- even so young – that we want to know what happened, the story. And there is always the option, as Wren knows, to tell a different one or keep it to yourself. Such a human thing to want to hear each other’s stories. I do think injuries that are visible get a free pass on making up a good one! Makes me think of that line – ‘you should see the other guy!’

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  6. Jess I love living these stories with you and your girls. I love that you are passing on the storytelling gene to them. They will learn how to treasure a life and to pay attention to a life from your example. Thanks for painting this picture.

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  7. I love the way you turned the fall into an opportunity to tell a story. Your descriptions are so vivid…I could see the hill and you holding onto Rose’s hood. What a wise Mom you are.

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  8. “We all headed towards the school. The older girls skipped ahead, a move newly mastered by Adi, her hops forced compared to Wren’s more natural and practiced skipping.” This picture is my favorite – the lines capture the calm before the storm (no pun intended)! You captured all the perspectives of the story – the mom wanting to tire out her kids, the devastated Wren, and the “I can do it” Rosie! Of course, admire the way you wove the walk turned blizzard and a fall story into oral rehearsal for Wren! Thanks for sharing!

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  9. My favorite line, “The older girls skipped ahead, a move newly mastered by Adi, her hops forced compared to Wren’s more natural and practiced skipping.”, paints such a vivid picture in my head of the girls and you watching from behind. Did Wren ever write her version of the story?

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