By Sammi Grieger
When I was younger I used to walk this path I made along the side of my house. I would pace, prance, run, or tip-toe, back and forth, barefoot for hours on end telling stories. The stories themselves were about anything and everything. What I loved to do was to tell them to my surrounding friends. See, the tree residing here was probably the best listener I’ve ever met; he never laughed at me. The ants were too busy to care, but they always had so much to do, so I didn’t mind. The little green vines growing along the ground would tickle me hello and listened as needed. The rocks usually remained silent, but I loved to pick them up and hug them (I felt they needed the self-confidence boost). Overall, I dwelled with my story telling area. I was faithful to it. I visited daily (usually more). I was engaged and happy and aware of every being around me.