The Story Collector

by Evie Woods

We alter together with each season, transforming, yet always staying true to our nature.

‘If we lose our stories,’ he wrote, ‘we lose ourselves.’

‘I understand; you end up saying what you think they want to hear. There’s a fear in all of us, that we’ll lose the relationship. But I suppose we end up losing ourselves instead.’

Grief is like a hard lump inside of you,’ she said, tapping her gut. ‘It will stay there, hard like a rock, unless you begin working to soften it.’

‘It will never go away completely, but instead of a hardness, it can become a tenderness. Your heart will make room for your memories and you won’t be afraid of them any more.’

You made your plans, but life had other ideas and somehow you had to make peace with that. Find the meaning in it and let it change you. Fighting to stay the same was the problem.

but I thought my heart would break in its love for you that night you fell asleep in my arms.

Life was like a great painting; if you only focused on one part, you would miss the full picture.