Hello! Allow me to tell you a story…

Once upon a time there was a small girl of cheerful, outgoing disposition and mischievous, sparkling eyes. There was nothing that gave her more pleasure than to collect a gathering and regale them with stories. They all started with – “then what happened…” and most waited for the next momentous twist in the story. By the age of 9, she was writing poems, telling longer tales, writing short stories with the passion of a love affair, her heart set on being a writer.

Sadly, the little storyteller grew up and lost her penchant for tales as life intruded. She grew, she studied, she mothered, and she toiled. The dream to be a storyteller faded to a distant memory as she focused on motherhood and work. The oppressive uniformity of routine, monotonous in its regularity of activities created small bouts of rebellion in her cells, quickly suppressed.

Then one day it happened – the children grew, the disenchantment with work grew, she was needed less, she moved out of her marriage and suddenly there was a deep, gaping hole. She realized that her discontent and restlessness had reached epic proportions as the tsunami of emotions left her no choice but to pour it all out.

Intuitively her hands moved, her emotions talked, and waves of words came pouring out onto the laptop. And just like that the storyteller was back – a tad melancholic, a little wiser, and less exuberant but the passion still alive. The poems came alive, a new one every day, the blogs published anecdotal wisdom, the online portals grabbed the experiential learning. Her heart soared...she was a writer again.