Storyteller

 This memory, a moment in time, her expression and words have stuck with me vividly. Although I don't recall the exact location, nor date.

I was in Spain, traveling the country with a Tibetan Buddhist monk and nun. The nun was once the wife of a friend of my mother's; she had so graciously invited me to accompany the two of them as they held classes throughout Spain for roughly two weeks.

I draw at times; whenever I am seized by a feeling that I struggle to articulate, I draw it. While I was at a Spanish local's house, lounging around with the nun and sketching a bit, she asked to take a look at some of my work. 

I showed her (what I wasn't too embarrassed to share). One of the drawings was of a girl and a serpent. I had drawn it from a dream I had sometime that past year. I even explained this to her, as well as the story I had pieced together from it.

She instantly glanced at me, her wide eyes glistening with genuine interest further magnified by her black rectangular rimmed glasses. She smiled a broad toothy smile as she exclaimed, "That's your gift, you're a storyteller!"

The nun's reaction struck me then, and has stuck with me since. I don't feel it was "necessary nicety", as I like to put it; therefore, to me, it felt genuine. 

Stories have always been what have pulled me out of the tragedy that is existence. They've granted me a way out for my thoughts. So, it felt nice to be associated with the very thing that my life revolves around.

I still try to live by my "gift"; in every breath and gesture, another story is told.