Storytime

There's a time for everything, and the Foam Cabinet revealed that now is the time for stories. I have a ton of 'em, because I've lived for over 16 years. That's more than 180 months. And over 5,800 days! Each day has multiple stories, and they all compile to form my life story.




I'm not the only one.


You.

You have probably lived well over 3,000 days, which means you have well over 10,000 experiences. In those experiences you have hundreds of thoughts, some larger than others. 




You're not the only one!




There are over 7,000,000,000 people currently living in the world. The average life expectancy for this world is  about 65 years of age. That's about 455,000,000,000 years of unique stories in the brains of people living today. 5,460,000,000,000 months. 166,075,000,000,000 days. Trillions, if not quadrillions of thoughts and opinions. TODAY. What about all the people from all of time's existence? You'd probably reach the quintillions, sextillions, or septillions of unique little bits of information. If you want an original story, there are plenty out there. You just have to ask the right questions.

With all that said and done, why don't I share a story with you? I wasn't even alive when this little thought-process took place, but it pertains to me.






Once upon a time, my mother was a child.


In her youthful days, she often visited her grandmother.


Her grandmother lived primarily in Colorado, and this is where my mother went one day.


After a while of chatting and gamboling and frolicking and stuff, my mother needed to go to the restroom.


Upon the finishing of her business, my mother always washed her hands.


Her grandmother never failed to keep her bathroom stocked with a bar of rose-scented soap.


This scent of rosy bubbles set my mother up with a permanent sense of sweet nostalgia.


Fast forwarding to the semi-eventful day of my birth, my dear mother and father wanted to name me.


They gave me the name Carolyn, for my mother loved the ring of the name.


When she wanted to choose my middle name, she was reminded of the days a good while ago.


As she remembered her favorite smell of soap, she named me Carolyn Rose.


Therefore I am named after a hundred-year-old bar of rose scented soap from Colorado.


The end.

It's simple stories like this that can make great conversation enhancers. Perhaps after telling an excerpt of your life's makeup, a good friend of yours might share an interesting, entertaining, or touching little tale of their own. Thus culture is continued, and life is a little more filled with substance. 




Go tell a story! 




I dare you.