The Story Lady

Back when I was a convenience store manager, I used to bring the daily deposits to the bank.  One particular day as I walked in, the girl behind the counter grinned and said,

"Here comes the story lady."

I turned to look and there was only me walking in the door.

"Me?"  I laughed uneasily, not sure whether to be offended or feel complimented.

"Yeah," She said, still smiling.  "We call you the story lady because you always have an interesting story to tell."

"I'm sorry?"  I proffered.

"No."  She assured me.  "We like your stories."

"Thank you.  I think."  I added the last in jest, by now having decided that she wasn't trying to be mean.

"No really."  She'd insisted, her smile faltering and her brow wrinkling.

"Well, let me tell you a story then…"  I began, grinning now.

That was the first time I really thought about all of the stories I tell. 

I used to tell fictional stories that I'd made up to my siblings and my children.  And so many interesting things happen in life that I just can't help but passing along.  Maybe I read so much and am such a bookworm that I think everybody is like me and wants to know all of the details of everything.

Anyway, I started noticing.  I did always have a story.  I couldn't help it.  I guess I've been doing it so long.

And nowadays, since the children are grown, nearly all of the stories I tell are true.

So if I am commenting, chatting, talking or communicating with you in any form and I launch into a story, forgive me.  I'm just the story lady.