We all have stories to tell. When our story began, we were mere observers. We watched, listened, and responded to the world around us. Slowly, words began to sprout, and we started to react to our surroundings. We screamed. We cried. We laughed. We uttered words that made sense to no one else in the room but us. Yet, there we were attempting at a dialogue and trusting that those who listened would understand. Those were the first chapters of our story.

Eventually, words made more sense. We were no longer just babies in the plot. We have names, and yes, we made sure people knew. We saw a cat, and we let everybody know. We didn’t like to sleep, and we said, “No!” We could speak. Finally, we were a part of the dialogue.

Then, our sentences became longer and longer. What came with them were the questions. We listened to rules, and we asked, “Why?” We got hurt, and we described how. We agreed, disagreed, reasoned, and explained. That’s when we started having a bigger audience. Our stories began to intertwine with others. Our worlds became bigger. Our imaginations took us to places where the possibilities were endless. As we sought through these possibilities, our stories grew in character, and the plot thickens. Some roads led to places we less preferred, but eventually, they led to our best days.

We all started as observers and listeners but look where our stories got us. Albeit the challenges, we have seen beautiful skies, laughed the hardest laughs, received the warmest hugs, conquered fears, to name a few. We have grown.

From the day we were born until now, stories matter. There will never be enough stories told and heard in this world, and having space for narratives is one of the most beautiful gifts we can give to each other.