We all have a story to live. Beginning, none know what it will be. Then one day, often without our even knowing, greatest chapter and tale begins. Little by little, day by day, our story lives and writes; us unseeing to what is done.
Then arrive little moments, looking back, when we see—before unaware—all that we have written.
*****
He looked at the pictures then, year upon year, displayed over glass before hutch of family histories and treasures of lives before.
He knew one day that the hutch, its treasures and some of his own, would reside in home of another—never truly possessed but held for a time before passing onto next; some treasures traded, some histories saved and others traded for space and telling of since-lived—a different living story told in spread of pictures over pane.
*****
We all have a story to live and, moment then, he saw how his had shaped. It brought a smile, a gratitude, as he thanked God then for the gift: for its living and its write and for the glass-window story reflected back right then.