I miss hearing the stories. The stories of when our parents and grandparents were young. How they worked hard on the farm, had to go to school through waist high snow drifts, how they cheered for the football team, how they met and fell in love, their hopes and dreams.
I have been working on recording our family histories and memories, and I realize how egocentric I was as a younger person. I could have heard hundreds of wonderful stories that would have made the people I love come to life in a whole new way in my mind. But I missed so many of them by not asking. The ones I do know and heard I treasure like little nuggets of gold.
So I am trying better now. To listen, to ask, to actually see the person I am talking to. To imagine their life through their eyes. And it has been wonderful.