I've loved books for as long as a can remember.
The first time I was inspired to be a writer was in grade 2,
when our teacher Mrs. B read our class
Charlotte's Web by E.B. White.
I've had a book at my side ever since.
That book was also the beginning of my pig collection phase.
Not real life pigs,
but other pigs of all kinds;
stuffed fabric, ceramic, stone, glass, crystal.
You name it, I had it.
I've grown out of that phase.
Although, some years ago we had an English Bulldog named Finn,
who I must say somewhat resembled a pig and snorted like one.
I used to bring Finn to visit my grand mother in her nursing home.
After our visits she would tell my aunt "Jodi brought the pig to visit today".
For the longest time, my aunt, knowing my fascination with pigs as a child,
thought we actually had a pet pig.
Where am I going with all of this?
One book
that I was introduced to
as a child
was a catalyst
to
a thread of lifelong memories.
Memories
not only shared and cherished
by me
but my family was well.
That's magic.
Story telling is enchanting.
It's an art that we all live everyday.
Whether its a story you tell at work
or one that you listen to.
Whether it's something cast on the news
or a conversation that you overhear.
The children's book that you read to your child or grandchild,
or one of your fiction crime novels that you read alone.
Words of story surround us everywhere.
They captivate us.
They fascinate us.
And story telling lives at the core of my being.
Over the next few days or so,
I am going to share a Fiction Short Story
that I have written.
I hope that you enjoy!
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