Well, it’s the same ole story. Yesterday I found a mistake a few rows back and today I’ve been Tinking back. I still haven’t reached the boo-boo. And I find the number of stitches on each needle is so different I’m going to have to get creative to get the number to match. Or tink even farther. Ugh!
When I was a young adult, my grandmothers had Alzheimer’s. Yeah. Both maternal and paternal. So when you all wonder why I work so hard at languages and learning new things and puzzling things like Sudoku, that is a fight I’m on. I’ve not been diagnosed, but at 74 I’m being as vigilant as I can.
And yes, I do repeat stories. I have since I was a child. Most people do. Maybe they don’t realize it. Or maybe they are trying to work something out in this retelling. I remember my grandmothers would tell a story once again and folks would criticize them. But I listened and saw they changed the story a bit each retelling. Sometimes I learned something new about them or others. Sometimes it just was their story. A thing that made them. How I’d love to hear them repeat one of their old tales to me again.
Think about how kids love hearing a book read to them for the umpteenth time. They’re working the story out. The rhythms, the rhymes, how it all works.
I have learned to reread or rewatch things as each time I pick up just a bit more. Not only the story but about writing, directing, acting. Or maybe more about how people differ in their relationships.
Old stories are still packed with nuggets we can learn from. Whether we are telling them or an audience member.
Darswords 
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